Starfall
by Immi
Summary: Sara's lost someone close, and can no longer deny how it's affecting her. SaraOFC, CathSara AU
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything... excluding the random OCs that will probably pop up during this.

**AN: **Okay, I decided to go ahead and toy with an idea I've had for a while now. Not sure how it will end really, but I thought I might as well get the idea typed out instead of just letting it sit in my head. So yeah. As if I really needed another project.

* * *

"_Hey Dreamer- mind moving?"_

I bite down on my lip to keep myself from moaning her name. As I have for the past nine months.

"_Um… no."_

I don't see him. I don't want to see him. Only her.

"_Good. 'Cause you're sitting in my spot."_

I know that soon her ghost will disappear, leaving me with him. But I can't help it.

"_Oh! Sorry!"_

I need it to be her for a while more.

"_Relax; you don't have to move unless you really want to- it's a great spot, isn't it? Besides, if you move, it'll take me forever to find you again. It's a big beach."_

Her hands are changing into his. I clamp my eyes shut.

"_So… do you have a name, or do I keep calling you Dreamer?"_

Her kisses were so soft…

"_S-Sara."_

Her touches drove me mad…

"_Sa-ra. Sara. I like it! My name's Amy- pleased to meet you!"_

She made me so happy.

"_Why are you so far away from the rest of the group, Sara? Besides the great view, I mean."_

I love her so much.

"_Well, uh, since I'm younger than everyone else, uh, they don't really want me around."_

I wish she could be here with me instead of him.

"_Huh. That's weird. I think you're neat!"_

But she can't be here. And he offered.

"_Really?"_

I shut my eyes tighter against the liquid building up behind them.

"_Really. I, er- watch you a lot…"_

Again I bite down on my lip, praying he won't see the blood as I choke on her name.

"…_Apparently not closely enough. Oh, Sara…"_

His kisses are so painful… they aren't like hers at all.

"_It's nothing, Star. Just a scratch."_

"I love you."

"_Just a… Sara… Dreamer… Please… please tell me who did this to you!"_

My eyes spring open at the three words he just spoke. Please tell me he didn't… God no…

"_I love you Dreamer."_

I dash to the bathroom the second he falls asleep so that I can throw up. I do all I can to forget how her hands would be holding back my hair if she were here with me now.

"_I love you too, Ames. Star."_

Letting the tears fall, I move around his apartment, collecting my clothes.

"_Hey, easy Dreamer… You're going to make yourself sick like this!"_

I reach my home and throw down my overnight bag, heading straight for the bathroom.

"_Thank you Amy. For… for making me take care of myself. Just… thanks."_

Bleach burns if you don't wear clothes. Of course. I can't bring myself to care. I need to get myself clean.

"_Bleach, Dreamer? Soap would do just fine, you know."_

I let the scalding hot water wash over me, hiding my tears.

"_I need to wash it off… wash it all off… get clean…"_

He loves me… Damn it. How did I let this happen? I used him… and he was my friend… once…

"_SARA! You're fine. The blood's all gone, I promise. You're clean. All clean. I promise."_

I exit the shower feeling numb. I don't think the bleach was enough to wash him away.

"_I'm sorry…"_

It'll have to do for now. I won't cut myself. I promised her I wouldn't. I gave her my word.

"_There is no reason for you to be sorry. I honestly should have expected this to have happened eventually. All that matters right now is that you're okay. We'll deal with everything else later."_

I look down at my wrist and feel like crying all over again. The waterproof makeup I put on it didn't last, apparently.

"_What would I do without you?"_

A tattoo. Covering a scar. A scar that Mom gave me when she tried to cut my hand off. Dragons. Chinese dragons connected by shooting stars. All black ink.

"_Something much less interesting, I'm sure."_

I covered it up so I could work with him. The 2nd top lab in the country. But I always left it alone when I was with her.

"_Looking at it reminds me why I'm still here."_

I wish I hadn't come here. Then she would still be in my life.

"_That shouldn't be all that stops you, Dreamer. Look… promise me… no matter what happens… promise me that you will never use a knife to damage you beautiful skin again. Please."_

And then I wouldn't have used Grissom. He had been such a good friend before I came here…

"_I… I promise I won't, Amy."_

I was unfaithful. I'm sorry, Amy. So sorry. I should've known that I couldn't duplicate your touch. I'm so sorry.

I should've made it home sooner that night.

_I'm so sorry you're dead, Star._


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** CSI does not belong to me.

* * *

Two gold rings. Celtic. Amy's has a diamond on it. Neither of them should be on the chain around my neck right now. We should be wearing them. 

I'm at work. But that doesn't excuse it. Warrick wears his wedding ring. Not that we were ever officially married, but…

At least I'm wearing the bracelet. That counts, I guess. A silver bracelet with a two inch name plate.

_Amy Kay Archer- Star_

The plate from hers shouldn't be drilled to the back of mine, but it is.

_Sara Samantha Sidle- Dreamer_

She should still be here. If I had just called her to let her know that I would be late getting home, she could've been out running errands.

Instead she was home.

And someone who clearly had no experience with killing ended up tearing apart her body. She did not die painlessly.

Days got the case. CSI Emery. Josh and the detective were discrete. No one else in the lab knew about my relationship with 'the victim'.

I was the one who found her body. Of course. No one else had a key.

The second I entered her house, I knew something was wrong. Iron… It reminded me so much of Dad-

"_It's okay, Dreamer. It's okay- I've got you."_

She didn't deserve that. Nothing she ever did could make her deserving of something like that.

She was a veterinarian. The first time I teased anyone… I teased her. About how much she loved animals. She just stuck her tongue out at me and grinned. She hadn't been mad that I teased her.

All of the people who brought their pets to her called me at least once. They and their animals loved her. Not like I loved her- but then, I can't imagine anyone loving Star like I do.

Partly because it hurts.

But mostly because I've been her best friend for twenty-nine years, and that really can't be duplicated.

I relearned that last night.

"_Quit beating yourself up over this, Sar."_

"Sara?"

I nearly jump out of my skin. It's been a while since I've heard anyone's voice but Star's. Even with Grissom…

I shake my head and turn to see who interrupted my thoughts.

Catherine.

Why did it have to be her? Why couldn't it be someone else- anyone else?

"Yes?"

She doesn't look like she wants to be here. So she probably has a reason for speaking to me. Damn.

I'm almost positive that Grissom told her that he and I were 'involved'. As if I didn't go out of my way to avoid her before. She's a wonderful human being, but she seems to have difficulties acting that way around me.

Amy would have loved her.

"_Wow. She sure has a fiery temper. I mean, just… wow. … I like her."_

"It's your day off, isn't it? Shouldn't you be at home… or with friends or something?"

The 'away from wherever the hell I am' bit isn't spoken, but part of me feels it lingering in midair- just waiting to be used. It's possible I'm just imagining that, though.

"I felt like coming in. I wanted more noise than sitting alone in my apartment."

I wouldn't be alone, though, and that's the problem. I'd have Star with me. And for now, that's a bad thing.

It's not surprising I took Grissom up on his offer of a distraction. Even if it makes me sick now.

With Jim in the hospital, and Josh popping up with evidence every once in a while…

I thought I could deal with it. I really did.

But I forgot that every single time before then when I had just lost it, Amy had helped with picking up the pieces.

She just wasn't there that time.

"**That's** how you spend your days off?"

I sigh and look back at Catherine. I really wish she'd just leave me alone, but I guess my response to her original question got her curious.

Perfect.

Grissom really did tell her, I guess. She probably thinks I would rather be with him.

The thought makes me want to take another bleach shower or- God forbid- cut myself. If I could get away with it, I'd stay out of his presence for the rest of my life.

Unfortunately, the rest of my life is looking to be a long, gloomy period. But…

"_Sara! Hang on Dreamer- don't give up on me just yet… Please don't leave me, Sar!"_

She would never forgive me if I tried again.

"Catherine, did you just come in here to harass me? I'm actually trying to work, here."

I am. I've been setting up photos for a while now. I can't remember who died for the life of me, but I'm working.

Catherine walks behind me and places a hand on my shoulder. I flinch away from the touch. It isn't nearly as bad as Grissom's, but I don't want to be touched by anyone.

She sighs and pulls away.

"Sara… You've just been staring at the table for the past ten minutes. Is everything all right? You can trust me, you know. Grissom told me all about your relationship."

Her voice is actually gentle. Almost like Star's. But it isn't Star's. Amy's voice never made me feel so violated… is this how it's going to be from now on? Me feeling sick whenever Grissom's mentioned?

I never wanted anything with him. But… it seemed more faithful than going to clubs every night looking for redheads with forest green eyes.

She wouldn't have liked it if I had gone against my rule prohibiting one-night-stands.

As if what I did was any better. At least strangers don't expect anything back.

Catherine sighs again.

"You know what? Fine. Excuse me for caring. Whatever's messing up your head is your own damn business anyway."

"_Lucky for you that I don't give up that easily, huh Dreamer?"_

I close my eyes, listening to her leave the room. Her footsteps aren't rushed- too loud for that. She's frustrated with me; stomping her feet to let off steam.

I don't really care. We never get along.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** CSI does not belong to me.

**AN: **Break-up time.

* * *

_A thin brunette girl sat in an uncomfortable looking chair. She had a blanket wrapped around her, and was wearing hospital scrubs that were several sizes too large. A surgistrip held together a gash just under her left temple._

_She completely ignored everyone around her until a teenage girl with crimson hair rushed towards her._

_The older girl halted- just staring at the younger one for a minute. Then she broke down and collapsed into the brunette's personal space._

_For a moment, the small girl froze- as if she had never realized how **good** a human's touch could feel. Then she slowly brought up her own shaking arms and wrapped them around the older girl, returning the hug._

_She hadn't been able to cry in eight years. But there, in the other girl's arms, she felt safe enough to let the longstanding barrier fall._

I immediately snap out of sleep, not moving an inch. I keep my eyes closed- listening for any signs that might betray a threat before I dare to open them. Old habits die hard. Pretending to be asleep saved my life several times when I was little.

Opening my eyes slowly, I sigh in relief. I'm at home. No- I'm at my apartment. Home is Amy's house.

I was afraid that I had fallen asleep at work. Having dreams about… any of that at work would be bad. As if my concentration isn't completely shot as it is. I'm just going through the motions of work now. There's no rush.

There hasn't been a rush for a while now. Even using Grissom didn't fix that. So even my workaholic tendencies couldn't keep me at work. Just one of many things that probably made him think it was real. Of course, I hardly did anything to disprove that notion.

I sigh and roll over to look at my alarm clock.

I could probably get away with going into work now. I can't just sit here thinking. That's never been productive.

"_Geez. Remind me to never leave you alone with your thoughts again. It's clearly not healthy."_

I shake my head and sit up. Work should be interesting tonight. I get to see Grissom again. I don't have any idea how to let him down easy.

How exactly do you tell someone who loves you that not only do you not return the sentiment, but that the entire relationship meant absolutely nothing? Well, not exactly nothing. I did use him, after all.

I don't know how to do this. Usually people are breaking up with me- not the other way around. Once they find out how screwed up I am… Grissom just ignores it, really. Star was the only one to accept it.

"_I love **all** of you, Sar."_

It really isn't possible to gently break someone's heart. It's like breaking a stick- you can do it as slowly as you want, but it still snaps loudly.

I **really** don't know how to do this.

* * *

_Two young women were lying down on the grass, watching as the sky became littered with stars. The redhead was curled up against the brunette- who still looked a bit too thin- and had her eyes half-closed._

_A boy was sitting next to them, smiling as the brunette cautiously wrapped one arm around the redhead. The boy shook his head, still smiling, as the brunette turned to look at the constellations above them when the redhead looked up questioningly._

_The redhead leaned back into the crook of the brunette's neck and smiled lazily. Content that her actions were allowed, the brunette sighed happily and tightened her grip on the slightly taller young woman._

I pick my head up off the steering wheel and sigh. Riley. He's probably worried about me. I haven't called him since I called him to let him know that Star had been killed. I hung up after getting that out.

Riley and I went through the same Hell as children. Our parents… they were friends. He was the only friend I was 'allowed' to have. I guess dear ol' Mom and Dad were afraid of me figuring out that my life wasn't normal. I can almost believe in God when I realize that they never found out about Star.

"_I'll kill them for what they've done to you- to both of you."_

I sigh again and unbuckle my seatbelt. Grissom's already here. I should go and talk to him first thing. If I were a better person, I would have already talked to him. Hell, if I were a better person, none of this would have happened.

I walk into work and head straight for Grissom's office, praying that I don't run into anyone on the way. The sooner this is over with, the better. I make it to his office without any interruptions, and stand in front of the door for a minute or so. The blinds are closed.

This isn't going to be easy. On either of us. I want to be honest with him, but I also want to avoid mentioning Amy at all costs. I've always been a bit selfish when it comes to her, but I can't help it. Part of me wants to keep her all to myself- even if it's just her memory.

"_This whole situation is miserable!"_

I raise up my hand and knock on the door.

"Come in."

Simple enough. I enter the room and close the door behind me. I don't want anyone to hear this conversation. He wanted to keep whatever it was we had a secret, and I want to respect his wishes even though this is over. It's the least I can do.

I start out with a cliché. "Grissom, we need to talk."

He looks up at me, and he tenses when he sees the look on my face. I probably look pretty terrible even without my grim expression. I haven't really been paying much thought to my appearance the past few days.

"Okay."

I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to break my ex-friend's heart. I really wish I hadn't asked him out back then. Everything was just such a mess… I needed something to hold me steady, and Amy had been unavailable. If I hadn't asked him out, he wouldn't have given it a second thought. We could have stayed friends. I hate myself.

"_Well that's nice. But I certainly **don't** hate you, so I'd appreciate it if you stop thinking like that."_

"Look, Grissom… I can't be with you anymore. These months together… to be honest, I've been using you to forget about things. When you asked me out, I was in so much pain… I thought that if you could numb just a little of it, things would be so much better. But then… you told me that you loved me."

As ridiculous as it sounds, I'm actually upset that he feels that way. It just felt like something only Amy could ever say and mean. Of course, given the huge chunk of my life that he likes to ignore, he could never mean it like Star.

"It snapped me out of whatever haze I was in and realize what I was doing to you- I just… I wanted the pain to go away so **badly**, and I wasn't sure how to make it leave. I'm sorry. I never really wanted what you did."

I stand in front of him, meeting his eyes the entire time I speak. He deserves that much. I watch as hurt clouds his vision, and how he tries to hide it. He looks older by the second, and I wait for him to say something.

"Okay."

I nod my head and prepare to leave. I know there's no point trying to get him to say anything else. He'll just close off even more, and I don't want that. I'd like to be able to fix our friendship one day, and I can't do that if he closes off.

"Sara?"

I turn back around and see him looking in my general direction sadly.

"I'm sorry I couldn't see how much pain you were in."

I try to swallow around whatever's caught in my throat, but I can't. It isn't his fault. I'm an expert at hiding my emotions- there was no way for him to know! Especially given that he had been avoiding me like the plague for a while before then! None of this is his fault!

I want to scream out all of those things, but I only nod again and leave his office.

_"Are our lives **ever** getting easy?"_


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I still don't own CSI

AN: More CathSara interaction... yay.

* * *

_A small child sat on the plastic chair while she waited for the nurse to come back from her early lunch. She had a tight grip on her forearm to keep any more blood from spilling as it had done in the gym. Her friend sat next to her, apologizing profusely for knocking her over._

_That was what had happened, after all. They were in gym class and the younger girl had been knocked over by her friend, resulting in a lot of blood. Enough blood that no one cared that there had been no sharp edges on the floor. Or that the injury was on the wrong side of the girl's arm._

_The redhead tried to wrap an arm around her friend to comfort her, but the brunette shied away from the warm touch, flinching slightly. The redhead backed away slightly- looking questioningly at the brunette. Then her eyes fell to look at the cut on her friend's arm._

_Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to question the brunette. But then the nurse finally got back, and the interrogation was left for another day._

I blink the sleep from my eyes and rub some dust away from the peephole. I wasn't wrong then. Catherine's the one trying to destroy my door. I was kind of hoping that she would stick with giving me the cold shoulder, but that isn't really her style.

It's been ages since we've really yelled at each other. The same rush that made me love work so much fueled a lot of our fights. We still don't get along, but we don't really fight anymore.

I should probably open the door. She's probably furious as it is, and I don't want to make things worse by ignoring her. She knows I'm a light sleeper. When I fall asleep at work, all it takes to wake me up is a light tap on the shoulder.

_"Stop ignoring her, Dreamer. Sooner or later she's going to end up breaking something."_

I almost smile before opening the door. It's taken enough punishment for one morning.

Catherine's standing just in front of me, glaring lividly. Definitely furious, then. Figures. She still has the luxury of being friends with Grissom, and he probably shared most of what happened with her- if not all of what happened.

I suddenly feel very self conscious in my wrinkled t-shirt and sweatpants. It's a completely irrational feeling – I don't care what Catherine thinks of my sleepwear – but it still causes me to clear my throat somewhat nervously.

Which, of course, sparks her into action.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

I've been asked that question a lot. In pretty much every instance, the questioner didn't expect an actual answer. Star is the only one I can think of who has asked me that question seriously.

I'm guessing Catherine doesn't expect an answer, either, so I don't bother opening my mouth. I just open my door further and move to sit down on my couch. Catherine follows after me, rubbing her forehead.

"Seriously, Sara! What the hell? You spend seven years pretending to chase after a guy, and when you finally have him, you tell him that he doesn't mean anything to you? How the fuck do you justify that?"

I sigh and lean into a pillow. She's calmer than I thought she would be. I thought she would hit me when she finally cornered me about this. She isn't really yelling, either. She's trying to hold back. That probably means that Grissom told her I used him because I was in pain. As much as she hates me, she's trying to understand. Probably for Grissom. He'd never be able to ask me what was running through my head.

"I don't."

That makes her pause. She probably expected me to have an excuse. I continue – who knows if she'll give me another chance to say this.

"I screwed up. I never should have asked him out. I never should have tried to repair our friendship without first telling him that I didn't think of him romantically. I never should have said yes when he asked me out. I never wanted to use him, it just happened! I was upset and had absolutely no one to talk to! When he asked me out…"

I shake my head and stop talking. I don't want to explain why I told him yes. To do that, I'd have to tell her about Star. There's no way I'm doing that any time soon.

Something cold touches my face and I shy away from it. Looking up, I see Catherine sitting next to me on the couch. She touched my cheek. Instead of looking mad, she looks concerned. There's also a bit of hurt in her expression. She probably isn't used to someone rejecting her touch.

She sighs and moves closer – something which I try to ignore. I don't want her near me. The closer she is, the easier it is for her to hurt me.

"Sara, look. I'm not going to pretend that I haven't noticed something… off. But do you have any idea how badly you hurt **him**?"

I close my eyes and nod.

"Yeah. He told me that he loved me. That's what made me tell him. Before then… before then I really wasn't aware of what was going on with us. After that… I couldn't just ignore it. I couldn't continue leading him on. Believe me, Catherine. I know I hurt him."

She sits back and gives me a long, hard look. When she meets my eyes again, her gaze has softened considerably.

"I'm still upset with you. When he called me to his office… God, Sara. He looked like he had just had his heart ripped out. Which is pretty much what happened, judging from the sound of things."

I shrug and try to avoid her gaze. I'm starting to feel really uncomfortable with her this close.

"I don't expect you to understand. There's nothing **to** understand. I screwed up, and there's not much I can do to fix it."

She sighs and gets up from my couch. I guess she's leaving. I fight back the sigh of relief that threatens to break free. I don't need her to know how much her presence was bothering me.

"Get some rest, Sidle. I'll finish yelling at you later – at the moment you look too pathetic."

Her eyes flicker to my clothing as she says that, and I can't help but feel a little insulted. Probably because it's her. From anyone else, I'd just accept it as the truth.

I don't bother to say goodbye as she closes the door behind her. I just sigh and lie down on the couch, resuming the position I was in before she started to pound against my door. The whole conversation could have gone much worse. I hadn't expected her to bother listening to anything I had to say. I thought she would come in, yell at me, and then leave.

As I fall back to sleep, it occurs to me that she was serious when she asked me that first question.

Amy really would have loved her.


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

AN: 93 seconds on expert Minesweeper while sick. :)

* * *

I lean back on the break room couch and stare at my wrist. 

Staged suicide. Victim was a former cutter. Her drug dealing boyfriend had a problem with her trying to beat all of her self-destructive habits. He slit her wrists while they were having sex. He held her down while she bled to death. After that, he ran a bath for her. Then he called the police.

I rub away some of the makeup. The scar Mom gave me is directly beneath the tattoo. The scar I gave myself is slightly lower. I'm not sure which one I wanted to cover up more at the time. Now the older one has almost no meaning. Mom gave me plenty of souvenirs.

I hate cases like these. I remember the look on Star's face when she thought I was cutting myself again. I hadn't been. It still nearly broke her heart.

_"Lucky for you that I was wrong, Dreamer. Otherwise, I probably would have ended up killing you myself."_

"Sara?"

I jerk my eyes away from my wrist and look up into Catherine's eyes. My throat feels very dry all of a sudden. I'm not used to people sneaking up on me.

I sit up straight and attempt a smile. "Uh, hey. What's up?"

She gives me an odd look, but shakes her head and smiles back, waving a slip in the air. "We've got a DB in the middle of the desert."

I suppress a groan. I really don't think that working right now is such a good idea. On the other hand, if I want to go home early, I have to talk to Grissom. I wince and get up, following Catherine to her car.

* * *

_A pale brunette thrashed around under her bedcovers, sweating profusely and moaning in pain. Every few minutes, a tall redhead would pace into the room, swearing into her cell phone._

_After awhile of that, she threw the phone into a wall and sat down on the bed next to her patient; making soothing noises and brushing the brunette's damp hair away from her burning forehead._

_The brunette quickly relaxed into the touch, mumbling incoherent nonsense. In a few more moments, she calmed down completely as she fell into a deep sleep. The redhead sighed in relief and went to pick up her slightly cracked cell phone._

_The lack of comfort caused her sick companion to wake slightly, and her fever-hazed eyes blinked open in confusion. The redhead hurried back over to the bed and kissed the other woman's cheek gently._

_She pulled back after a moment, only for her patient to clasp her wrist and pull her even closer. Both of them stopped breathing when they realized that they were only inches apart._

_The redhead let out a wavering breath and leaned closer, smiling as a look of contentment came over her friend. She slowly closed the distance between them, and kissed the brunette softly on the lips._

I hate that memory. It used to be one of the only things that could make me fall asleep. Now it just hurts.

"Are you okay?"

My head snaps up and I find myself staring at Catherine. She's stopped the car and is looking at me rather oddly. I cough lightly.

"Um, yeah. I'm fine. Really."

I wait a few moments, but she doesn't start the car back up. I shift uncomfortably. It's getting warm in here. What was I doing in my sleep to make her act like this?

"You've been sleeping a lot lately. Are you coming down with something?"

No. I just get some sort of masochistic pleasure reliving my most treasured moments, so I've been trying to sleep as much as possible. I never thought I would actually benefit from sleeping pills.

"I'm fine, Catherine. Now could you please start the car back up so that we can get to our scene?"

She sighs in resignation and starts the car again, but not before giving me a look that clearly says 'This isn't over'. I mimic her sigh and lean against the window. I'm not used to her acting motherly towards **me**. Oh well. That will probably end after we rip each other's heads off over this case. She has no reason to hold back anymore.

_"It **is** possible for people to just **want **to be nice to you, you know."_

It takes fifteen more minutes of silence before we get to the scene. I immediately grab my kit and jump out of the car. I don't want to deal with her any more than I have to. If I wanted to talk about my issues, I'd see a shrink.

I hear Catherine walking behind me, and I try to ignore the feeling that tells me she's glaring daggers into the back of my skull.

I also ignore the officer who's talking to her, and walk over to the body. I hear Catherine ask the routine questions- 'Did anyone touch the body?' 'Any ID?'- and kneel in front of the barely clothed woman. She's covered in blood.

From the looks of things, she was stabbed to death and then tossed out here in the middle of nowhere. I snap my gloves on and brush her dark hair away from the spot of blood on her face. I reach for my camera, but something stops me.

I stare at the snake tattoo on her collarbone, and barely keep myself from reaching out to touch it.

_"Sara, this is Ruth Mitchell- Riley's older sister. She offered to ref our soccer game."_

My blood runs cold as I connect her face with the one I knew when I was little. She's grown her hair out. It used to be short. Now it's below her shoulders. My breath comes in shorter gasps, and I try to keep myself from hyperventilating.

A hand clasps my shoulder, and I hear Catherine's voice asking me what's wrong. I try to ignore her again- focusing instead on Amy's soothing tone.

_"Breathe, Dreamer. Slow and easy. You're okay, sweetheart. You're okay."_

"I know her," I say shakily. I wait for Catherine to say something in response, but she doesn't. She just waits for me to continue.

"Ruth Mitchell. She's… she's an old friend."


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: This was finished two days ago. ...Being sick sucks.

* * *

_"Friend meaning… what? Jealous psychopathic bitch?"_

Ruth wasn't really a friend. She was my brother's girlfriend, and that meant that I had to stay away from her at all costs, _or else_. The first time I came into contact with her was when Star conned Riley and I into playing soccer after school. Ruth came over so that she could keep an eye on her brother.

At first, I liked her. She was nice to me, which I couldn't really understand, but I liked. Whenever I ran into her at school, she'd smile at me and touch my shoulder.

After awhile, I started to stay at home whenever my brother invited her over. I knew he'd be mad if I disturbed their time together, but besides Amy, Ruth was the only one who smiled at me. And that was nice. It was worth having my brother annoyed with me.

Then I ran into Ruth at her house.

We had a case a few years back where a girl killed her mother because she was in love with her father. The case really got to Catherine. It got to me too. When I told Amy about it, she called the lab and said I was sick. We spent the next day at Lake Mead.

Amy was always good at recognizing when I was about to break down. She always did her best to make sure that I bounced back unharmed. Taking me somewhere where we could be alone was her favorite method, and it worked wonderfully.

I didn't even know I was about to lose it until we got to the lake. Thinking about Ruth was something that had stopped a year after Mom's trial. There was just no point. I had hoped that I would never have to deal with her again.

When Ruth found out about her father's dirty little secret… she was pissed. She hadn't known that her father had replaced her with a younger model. She just knew that he no longer came into her room at night.

She stopped being nice to me. Instead of smiling at me, she would glare. Instead of lightly touching my shoulder, she would 'accidentally' trip me at the top of the stairs. I started staying outside again when she came over to see my brother.

When she ran away from home, I didn't care. After she stopped being nice to me, I didn't have a lot of attachment to her. What I did care about was that my brother had gone with her.

I tried so hard to forget about Ruth. Without my brother at home, I had to deal with being the sole object of my parents' attentions. It felt like she had taken away the only person who could stand me in that household.

_"Not that he was so great, either."_

I don't know how to feel about her being dead. Seeing her certainly wasn't pleasant, but… I'm pretty sure seeing her alive would have been worse. Much worse. But I'm pretty sure I'm not happy about her being dead. I just never wanted to come in contact with her ever again.

I sigh and take a sip from the cup of coffee Catherine brought me. It's cold and bitter now. The cup was steaming when she brought it over. How long have I been sitting here?

"Do you want a ride home?"

I sigh again and look over at Catherine. She's sitting next to me. I don't know how long she's been there. I don't really care.

I consider her offer for a moment. Spending more time with Catherine probably isn't a good idea. She's probably going to want to know how I know her victim. Victim… Ruth. How I know Ruth.

Knew.

_"You're torturing yourself, Dreamer."_

"Yeah, sure."

There's no way I would be able to focus on driving right now. And if I ended up dying, Star would kill me all over again. So I might as well accept Catherine's offer.

* * *

"Thanks for the ride."

It was amazingly pleasant. She didn't ask me anything about Ruth. She didn't talk to me at all, actually. I'm surprised she knows where I live. I expected to at least have to give her directions.

"No problem."

She stays by the door, shifting uncomfortably. She's probably trying to figure out the best way to ask me about Ruth. Wonderful. She could've just asked me while we were still at the lab instead of driving me home first.

"Look, Sara… I asked Grissom to give the case to Warrick. But… if you'd rather talk to me, I could just pass the information along. I know we aren't exactly close, but it might be easier to talk to me here than with Warrick at work."

She asked Grissom to give the case to someone else? That's… odd. I don't think she's ever done that. Not even when her ex-husband was accused of rape.

I walk over to my couch and sit down, wrapping my arms around my knees. As if I can really protect myself from my memories. I wave my hand towards the other side of the couch, and she sits down.

"I haven't seen her since 1980. I recognized the tattoo one her collarbone. I didn't expect to ever see her again, so I sort of… freaked out."

I pause for a moment and close my eyes. Understatement. I didn't have a full-blown panic attack, but it was enough to get Catherine concerned. Obviously. So it had to have been pretty bad.

_"She has a heart, Sar."_

I shake my head and sigh. I'm about to continue when Catherine's cell phone starts ringing. She looks down at it and sighs. She picks it up and answers with her usual 'Willows'.

After a few moments her expression darkens. I almost expect her to growl in frustration. I wonder who's calling her? Not many people can make her that irritated.

A minute later, she hangs up and gives me an apologetic look. I stand up and walk over to the door, already knowing the basics of what she's going to say.

"Sorry, I have to pick up Lindsey from school. Maybe we could continue this another time? I'll understand if you don't want to, but…"

She shrugs helplessly and I nod. I don't think we'll end up talking about Ruth again. Warrick will probably come to me before Catherine does, and once I say what I need to, I don't intend to talk about it anymore.

I open the door for her and wait patiently for her to leave. She walks out, but turns back towards me before she goes down the hallway.

She wraps her arms around me, and for a second I think I'm going to have another panic attack. Then she let goes of me and I can breathe again.

_"Good to see you making friends."_

I close the door and slump against it wearily. I almost wish Catherine had been able to stay longer. It was sort of nice to have someone mothering me.


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI

AN: My immune system sucks. Someone please shoot me.

* * *

Hell. 

"Oh God, Sara- I'm sorry! I didn't see you and- oh, uh, you should probably get that taken care of um, now."

It hurts. I swear, Amy. It hurts, and that's all. Nothing else. It hurts like hell- that's it. I swear. That has to be it. There is no reason for it to make me feel anything besides pain. It **just** hurts.

Greg accidentally sliced my forearm open with a piece of glass from his scene. No big deal. Accidents happen. He's been stressed lately. It isn't that deep, just bleeding a lot. And it hurts. Greg is right. I should go take care of it. I should walk into the bathroom and clean it up.

"Damn it Greg, can't you be more careful?! You just cut her arm open! Sara, c'mon- I'll help you clean that up."

I barely look up as Catherine drags me to the bathroom. I know it's Catherine. She's been touching me a lot lately. Her hands are nice and soft. Almost comforting. I'm actually glad that Lindsey's teacher found out she'd been skipping the detentions she got for not doing her homework. Otherwise, I might've told Catherine everything. And then she wouldn't come anywhere near me.

I close my eyes and turn my head away from the blood that's flowing freely from my arm. I really don't think I should pay much attention to this. In a few moments I feel something cool press against my arm, and a sharp sort of relief comes with it.

"Does it hurt?"

I shake my head at her concerned tone. "No. It feels ni- fine. It feels fine."

"Are you sure?"

I nod but keep my eyes closed. I don't want to look at the blood. And if I open my eyes, that's exactly what I'll end up looking at. I don't want to look at it.

"Sara? Are you okay? You're getting paler."

I snap my eyes open and tear my arm away from Catherine- missing the soft touch of her hands immediately. I keep my arm out of my line of sight and stare at the wall, trying to ignore the warm liquid that's threatening to drip down my hand.

"I'm **fine**, Catherine."

She looks a little hurt that I pulled away, but her expression quickly morphs into a frustrated glare, and her fist clenches around the cloth that was covering my cut a few seconds ago.

_"Brilliant, Sara. Reject everyone who gives a damn about you- that's sure to solve everything."_

"Sorry," I whisper after a moment. I don't want to start fighting with her again just because she's trying to help me.

She stops glaring, but she still looks a bit hurt. I attempt a smile and lift my arm up towards her. The bleeding has almost stopped, but it's still covered in blood. I flinch slightly.

"Sorry," I repeat. "I've never been a good patient." It's a lie, but it gets her to smile and put the cloth back on my arm. Which is a good thing. I can't see the blood anymore. And it stings a bit.

_"Good grief- I'm going to have to stop using the stupid rubbing alcohol if you enjoy it this much!"_

I almost pull away again, but I manage to stay still. Catherine still opens her mouth to say something when my arm tenses, though. But she closes it again and shakes her head, letting it go.

I sigh in relief. I guess she doesn't want to start fighting again either.

* * *

_"You promised."_

My hands are shaking badly. I drop the knife and lean my forehead against the mirror. My head hurts. So does my arm. I look down at the bandaged cut and sigh. Catherine sent me home after cleaning it. I really wish she hadn't. I'm not sure I can handle everything right now.

Wait- scratch that. I don't think I can handle **any**thing right now.

_"You promised."_

I glare at the knife on the counter and try to get my breathing back under control. A few minutes pass like that, and my arms shake from the stress of keeping me standing. I sigh again and let myself collapse on the floor.

I'm keeping my damn promise, Ames. Even if it fucking kills me.

Perfect.


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I still don't own CSI

AN: Being sick isn't fun. Neither is taking medication that makes you worse before the wellness comes.

* * *

_Two girls sat on a bench in the middle of a hallway, deathly quiet. The redhead kept a tight grip on the brunette's hand, brushing a thumb over her wrist. Every few moments the smaller girl would glance over at her friend and smile hesitantly._

_They both looked nervous, though the older one seemed more concerned with how her companion was handling things, and would glare at anyone who spared them a second glance._

_A few minutes passed with neither of them saying anything. Finally the redhead sighed and turned to speak with her friend. The younger girl slowly relaxed as she listened to her friend's voice, and soon they were both participating in a lively conversation._

_The tension returned, though, when a young woman with a gold badge walked over to them. She knelt down and smiled sadly at the brunette, telling her that it was her turn. Both girls stood up, and the redhead hugged her friend fiercely before the girl left with the detective._

The trial wasn't bad. Mom didn't say anything- she didn't even look at me. She just stared at the table in front of her. I could almost believe that she felt guilty. But I remembered how she laughed while she killed Dad. I decided that she had just realized what was going to happen to her, and was too shocked to intimidate me.

"Rough night?"

Damn it. I fell asleep in the break room again. This has to stop. I have issues. Bringing them to work will cause nothing but problems I can't deal with.

I shake my head and force myself to look at Catherine.

"Yeah. I had a lot of trouble sleeping." I fight back the guilt the lie stirs up. I didn't even bother trying to fall asleep. I had nightmares constantly when I cut myself. All of that blood was sure to bring them back. I'm impressed I got through without one on the break room couch.

I check my watch and sigh. Twenty minutes. That would explain the lack of nightmares. Though the dream about the trial was probably leading up to something interesting. I'm still amazed at how smoothly it went. My brain came up with all sorts of scenarios beforehand; most of which involved Mom assaulting me.

_"On the plus side, Detective Scotts might've been allowed to shoot her if she had done that."_

"Too bad you couldn't take that couch home. You seem to sleep just fine on it."

I roll my eyes and look down at the floor. I'm not in the mood to have any sort of a conversation with anyone. Especially with Catherine. We've been getting along lately, but she notices immediately when something's worse than usual with me.

From the corner of my eye, I see her reaching out towards me, and my body stiffens automatically. I hear her sigh in disappointment while her hand drops back to her side. I think it hurts her that I shy away from her touch, though I have no idea why. I've been avoiding contact with other people for months, not counting Grissom. It shouldn't bother her as much as it does.

"Warrick's looking for you. He has a few questions about the vic- Ruth's family."

I nod slowly. I have some idea of what he needs to know. Ruth's next of kin is probably still her father. Mr. Mitchell's in jail for killing his arresting officer. Riley will have to take care of funeral arrangements and such. Warrick has no idea where Riley is. I doubt he even knows that Ruth has a brother.

Wait. If Warrick's looking for me, odds are he knows Mr. Mitchell's in jail. He'll have looked at Mr. Mitchell's criminal record. He knows what the original charges were. He knows what happened to Riley and I. Maybe just Riley. Oh God. He knows.

_"Deep breaths, Dreamer."_

I swallow around the lump in my throat and stand up from the couch. Okay. Maybe Warrick doesn't know everything. He probably found out about Riley, but that doesn't mean he knows that I went through that too.

My hands are shaking and the cut on my arm starts to itch. Not good. I can't do this at work. I need to calm down. Warrick and I aren't that close. Even if he knows, he probably won't want to talk about it. I might have to deal with him giving me the Look for a while, but I can handle that.

"Sara… hey."

I lift my head to meet Warrick's eyes, but he's avoiding looking at me. I ignore the jolt of pain that goes through my chest. He does know.

"I was wondering if you know where the victim's brother lives."

I close my eyes and breathe slowly through my nose. "Monterey, California. I'll get you his number."

"Okay."

An awkward silence fills the hallway, and I open my eyes and look at him again. He's staring at the floor. I don't think he has any idea how to talk to me. After a few tense moments, he meets my gaze with a sympathetic look. For a second I think he'll say something, but he just shakes his head and heads down the hallway.

_"As pleasant as that was… It could have been much worse."_

I take a deep breath and shake the unpleasant memories away from my mind. I'm at work. I can self-destruct later, when bleach showers are available.


	9. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI

AN: Spoilers for 7x18. I tried to make this somewhat canony.**Tried**.

* * *

I don't shrug off Grissom's arm until we get to the parking lot. The second he touched me, I wanted to run away. But he hasn't come near me in weeks. I don't want to discourage any attempts he might make to restore our friendship. 

But God- did he have to choose tonight to make an effort? I've been fighting off panic attacks throughout this entire case. I don't need someone touching me. I could barely handle human contact before… this.

Amy. Ruth. Cammie.

I can't remember the last time I've fallen asleep in my apartment. I've been nodding off in the break room and in my car. Twenty minutes of sleep a dozen times a day. Any longer and instead of dreaming about Star, my parents and old cases come back to haunt me.

I've seen people die before. Dad wasn't the first. When my brother ran away, I ended up spending a lot of time on the streets. I couldn't handle everything my parents did to me. If I spent a few days away, I got a few more days of going to school. I saw a lot of people die.

With Dad… One minute he was on top of me; the next I was on the floor bleeding- watching Mom stab him to death. He didn't look at me. He didn't say anything. He just died. I got showered with his blood.

Cammie…

_"Give yourself a break already."_

I sigh and lean my head against the steering wheel. I need some rest. Not twenty minutes in my car. Rest. I need to get some more sleeping pills. My cell phone vibrates against my hip and I sigh again. Damn it.

"Sidle."

"Would you mind opening the door?"

I tear the phone away from my ear and jerk my head to the right, staring right into Catherine's eyes. What is she doing still here? Shouldn't she be spending time with Warrick or Lindsey or… not here?

I lean over and push the door open mostly to be polite. Catherine snaps her phone shut and sits down in the passenger seat. I feel myself staring, but I can't help it. What is she doing here?

She smiles at me. "I figured you could do without someone sneaking up on you."

She understands better than Grissom. She gets it. I nod and go back to imprinting my forehead with the steering wheel pattern. We sit in silence for a few minutes before I break it.

"I don't want to go back to my apartment."

I really don't. I might need the rest, but I don't want to go to my apartment to get it. I want to be at home with Amy, and I want to tell her about the case, and I want her to take me in her arms and tell me that it will be okay.

"Any particular reason?

I shrug. I'm not up for lying to her today. I'm also not up to telling anyone what's going through my head right now. At least… not anyone alive. So not answering works. It'll probably annoy her, but I can't bring myself to care.

"So where do you plan on going? You obviously need some rest. I doubt you'll be able to get that away from a bed."

I shrug again. What am I supposed to say- I haven't slept on a bed in nine… ten months? Even when Grissom and I were 'together', I'd be falling asleep on his couch instead of with him. I don't know the answer to her question, anyway. Besides a drugstore for some sleeping pills, I really don't know where else to go.

"My couch folds into a bed. You could sleep there."

I raise my head to stare at her. We've been civil these past few weeks. Almost acting like friends at times. But it took seven years to get this far. I still expect us to get into an argument when we're left alone. And she's inviting me over to her house. To sleep.

_"It's odd, but God knows it would probably help not spending another sleepless night in your apartment."_

"Uh… thanks. Are you sure, though? I don't want to interfere with your life." I really don't. Catherine has more than enough to worry about as it is. I don't want to add something else to the list.

She smiles at me. "Trust me, you won't."

I nod hesitantly. I'm still not sure about it. I've never really slept over at someone else's house. Amy doesn't count. It always felt like home with her. No matter where we were.

_"She'll take care of you."_

* * *

_A young brunette woman sat in the corner of a small room. She rolled up the right sleeve of her sweatshirt and leaned against the wall. After a moment, she took a knife out of her pocket. She stared at the blade for a minute, then she slowly pressed it against her arm, sighing in relief as blood leaked out._

_She made a few more quick cuts before dropping the knife and collapsing against the mattress next to her. She spent awhile watching the blood run down her arm before reaching out for the knife again._

_With only the barest hint of hesitation, she brought it down to slice open her wrist. She made the cut deeper than any of the prior ones, the whole blade almost disappearing into her skin._

_The knife fell out of her shaking hand, and the girl whimpered in pain. She curled her knees into her chest and took slow, deep breaths. She didn't notice the doorknob rattling. She didn't notice a distressed redhead running over to her body. She didn't notice when the same redhead yelled for help._

_The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was a pair of watery forest green eyes staring down at her._

Damn it. What the hell is wrong with me? Sleeping pills, after a case like that? Idiot. Twenty minutes of quality sleep is a hell of a lot better than six hours of nightmares. Idiot.

I open my eyes and sit up on the couch-turned-bed. The blanket Catherine supplied slips away. The cut on my arm burns at the sudden contact with the air. Wonderful. It opened up again. I hope I didn't get any blood on Catherine's carpet.

I jump up and walk over to the kitchen, keeping my hand over the cut- hopefully preventing any blood from falling on the carpet.

I don't like to think about my suicide attempt. The things leading up to it, and what happened afterwards. None of it was pleasant. All of it was miserable. Waking up in a hospital room to see Amy so upset was the worst part.

_"How would you react if I put myself in the hospital?"_

The water washes over my cut, and the blood goes down the drain. I close my eyes and rub soap over it. I wish it didn't hurt. Pain is not something I need right now. Especially not after that nightmare.

I wonder when Catherine's getting up… I don't want to leave before thanking her. She didn't have to put up with me.

I shut off the water and go back to the couch. I hope she wakes up soon.


	10. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

AN: I hate Lyme.

* * *

Catherine must be picking up Lindsey. Right. It's a school day. Forgot about that. I'll probably have to wait around for another thirty minutes. Wonderful. I wanted to be out of here ten minutes ago. No offense to Catherine, I just don't want to be still. Especially with my cut itching. One good thing about being in Catherine's house. Cutting myself here would cause a lot of problems.

I lean against the couch and sigh. I set it back up. I really don't want to cause Catherine any trouble. More trouble. I've already complicated her life, no matter what she says. Hell, anyone I come into contact with gets a more complicated life. Someone should put a warning label on me. Bold red print.

_"Which everyone who actually cares for you will ignore."_

The front door opens, and Lindsey walks in, followed closely by Catherine. Neither of them looks too temperamental, so I guess Lindsey didn't get another detention. Catherine spots me sitting on her couch and smiles.

"I'm amazed you're still here."

So am I. Especially considering that I wanted to bolt ten minutes ago. Nice to know that I've impressed myself today. And Catherine. I suppose that's nice too, what with the semi-friendship we've got going.

I shrug and smile back. "I just wanted to thank you before I ran away. It was really- you didn't have to- thanks. Really. Thank you." And now I should really leave. I didn't have to act like an idiot. Just thanking her would have been fine. Lindsey's rolling her eyes at me now. Wonderful.

Catherine just keeps on smiling at me and walks towards the kitchen. Her daughter walks over to me. She's probably wondering why I was sleeping over. She's a smart teenager. She knows that her mother and I don't get along. …Didn't.

"So… why were you sleeping on the couch? You **were** sleeping on the couch, right?"

_"Protective much?"_

It almost sounds like she's accusing me of something. I don't know what, though, so I should probably ignore her tone.

"I didn't want to go back to my apartment, and your mother offered me the couch."

Lindsey visibly relaxes. I wonder what had her so tense? She still doesn't move away from me, and I start to get a bit nervous. I was doing poorly enough trying to talk to Catherine, I don't even want to think about how badly a conversation with Lindsey could go.

"Why were you skipping detentions?" Wonderful start, Sara. As if you could have chosen a worse topic. Wasn't I was supposed to be leaving? I said thank you. I can leave now, can't I?

Her face flushes and she crosses her arms over her chest. "I shouldn't have got them in the first place! I didn't do the homework because it was basically the same problem over and over again and was a complete waste of time! Actually missing dance class to go to a detention for **that**? And then he gives me a detention for missing that detention… and then when I try to explain how I can't go to that one either, he goes whining to Mom!"

_"She's fun."_

She halts mid-rant and shoots me a curious look. "How did you even know about those? You and Mom aren't exactly friends."

I try not to wince. It isn't like my improved relationship with Catherine is something she'd brag about to her kid. Lindsey not thinking that we're friends isn't that big of a deal. I'm not even sure that Catherine and I are friends. I don't know. It certainly shouldn't bother me that Lindsey doesn't think we're friends.

"You're mother was yelling at me when your teacher called." Actually, I think she had stopped yelling at me by then. Right- thanks to Lindsey I didn't tell Catherine all about Ruth, and we now have this weird relationship where we come into contact and don't bite each other's heads off. I don't think a verbal thanks is needed for that, at least. Thank God.

"I was being perfectly pleasant at that point, Sara." Catherine walks in, looking slightly less cheery than she did before. I guess she overheard Lindsey complaining about her detentions.

Lindsey rolls her eyes and heads over to the stairs. I'm confused by the action until Catherine sits down next to me on the couch. Right. I guess Lindsey figured out that her mother wanted to talk to me. I said thank you. I really thought I could leave after that.

"Do you want to talk about the case?"

I close my eyes. Cammie's face immediately jumps into my mind. I open my eyes again, my breathing slightly uneven. I hate that. I'm used to Dad's, I'm used to Ruth's, I'll **never** get used to Amy's. Cammie will take awhile. I didn't have to talk to Dad, Ruth, or Amy. I might've been closer to them, but… damn it. At least until the next case, I'm going to have trouble.

"I held the bastard's hand. Just like I held Cammie's. I'll… I'll get over it. It might take longer than I want it to, but I'll get over it. You don't have to worry- it won't interfere with my work." The last part's mostly insecurity getting the better of me. I don't want to assume that she's asking because she's interested in my wellbeing.

She frowns at me. "Sara… I know you can handle work. I wasn't worried about that. I was worried about you. You really look like hell, and to be honest, it scares me to see you like that."

I squirm uncomfortably. I really want to just get out of here. Without thinking, I blurt out what's been on my mind since I broke things off with Grissom. "I just can't understand why you're being nice to me now that I'm not involved with your friend." **Why** is she being so nice to me?

Her expression changes from confused to angry. She stands up and paces around, running her hands through her hair. "God, Sara! Is that what you think? For the love of- I actually like you, Sara. We don't get along, but I like and care for you. I'll admit, you dating Grissom made me realize just how unfair I had been towards you, and that I should make more of an effort. But I **never** liked fighting so much with you."

"Oh." I didn't expect that. Then again, I didn't really expect any real answer. I expected her to brush it off with some random comment or… I didn't expect that. She likes me? And she cares about me? Wow. That's definitely more positive than any hypothetical answers I've thought up over the weeks.

"Yeah, 'oh'." She's glaring at me. I guess my assumption didn't exactly flatter her.

I shrug my shoulders and smile weakly. "Sorry. It's just… our relationship changed when he and I got together, and then when we broke up it changed again, and… I was a bit confused. More than a bit confused. I didn't know you liked me."

_"Well, **duh**!"_

She rolls her eyes and smiles back. "You're ridiculous, you know that, right? It's a damn good thing I like you."

"So we're friends?" The hope in my voice is pathetic. It almost sounds like I'm begging to be friends with her. She's right. I am ridiculous.

"Of course we're friends. Why else would I put up with you?" She winks at me, and the way she looks at me makes me feel like I'm missing something. Great. Now I'm imagining things. Maybe I should have gone to the apartment with no sleeping pills.

I clear my throat and look back at the front door nervously. "Right. Well… I've said thank you, so I'm just gonna leave. Okay?"

She smiles at me and nods. I think she knows that I've been trying to get out of here for awhile now.

Catherine likes me. And she cares about me.

_"I thought that was sort of obvious."_

I guess I get to go back to my apartment now.


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I do not own CSI.**  
**

**AN:** I thought I'd be evil and update this before I Already Knew. I'm going to go hide now.

* * *

I don't flinch when I see his car. I've been expecting him for awhile now. Even before Ruth's death. He respects my decision to completely ignore everyone who gives a damn about me, but he loves me too much to let things go until I get my act together. Part of me wishes that he had just come to my apartment last May and kicked my door down. But that's what Star would have done. They're different people.

It annoys me that I can recognize his car without seeing the license plate. I don't know why. It just does. Actually… right. I felt panicked. Claustrophobic. I'm not ready to talk to him. I'm just not. Like that really matters. He's one of my closest friends. He's not staying in a hotel just because… he's not staying in a hotel.

I open the door to my apartment and walk over to the couch. I collapse on it and rest my forehead on the coffee table. I take a few deep breaths and wait for him to make his presence known. He likes to observe people for a few moments before starting a conversation. After a minute, my calming breaths stop working, so I start.

"I could've sworn I'd changed the locks." I gave him a spare key when I first moved in to this apartment. Ames got the other. When she… when she died I thought about changing the locks. Actually, I'm almost positive I did change them. Of course, even if I did, that wouldn't mean a lot to Riley. We both picked up some things when we were kids. Being able to pick a lock could mean having a warm place to sleep.

"You didn't. I got to use my key." I look up and see that he's moved into the front room, and is sitting in the easy chair. For a moment I calm down. He has the same short, rust-colored hair… the same light brown eyes- for a moment it's a year ago, and everything's perfect.

"I was actually scared, you know. When I realized that the key still worked, I thought I'd find your corpse in here. The empty bottles of sleeping pills didn't do much to comfort me." He's smiling at me, but there's a hint of fear in his voice. He really was scared. Not that I can blame him.

"Did you manage to list a new next of kin?" His voice is the same. Quiet. I remember the day after my suicide attempt. How he sat next to me and asked me why I did it. He was angry, but he didn't show it. I always thought he'd be a good counselor if he didn't have so many of his own issues.

"Next of kin?" He repeats. I tense. If anyone but Riley… but it is Riley. He knows Star. He knows how important she is to me. I can talk to him about her… if I want. He would understand.

Which is probably why him being here is bothering me so much. He understands me. And that scares me just a bit. With Amy… I had to tell her about everything I went through. Riley knew because he practically lived through it with me. I didn't get a choice with him finding out. Amy I trust completely. I trust Riley too, just not on the same level. Amy's presence would never cause me to panic.

"Working on it."

Riley glares at me. "I've let this go for eleven months, Sara. I trust you- to a point- but things can happen. Especially with your job. Things happen. You should do something about listing a new next of kin. Soon. Even if you don't end up in a life or death situation… the doctors would still want to know. And your colleagues- being the helpful people they are- would look it up. How do you think they'd react to a dead person being your next of kin? At the very least, they would find out about Amy. And I don't think you can handle that just yet. You can barely handle me at the moment."

_"And you've known **him** for thirty years."_

I rub my neck and avoid looking at him for a moment. When I meet his solemn eyes again, he turns away to stare at the floor. "What have you been doing since she was murdered?"

I flinch and end up following his gaze. I don't like thinking of her as dead. Thinking of her as murdered… I still can't believe that someone was willing to put her through all of that pain. I grit my teeth against the nausea that springs up at the memory of her body torn apart on our living room floor.

"I used Grissom." It's the sort of answer he wants. He wants to know if I've done anything idiotic to keep my sanity. He wants to know how I'm dealing with everything. How I'm not dealing with everything.

"Male and someone you were sort of close to. Less of a betrayal than sleeping around with strangers you were physically attracted to, right?"

I nod my head, still looking at the floor. I feel guilty about using Grissom. I feel worse that I'm not even physically attracted to him. When I first asked him out, it was because I needed something or someone to latch onto. Amy wasn't around, and I had known Grissom for years. He respected me, and I respected him. That was it, but for some reason it never crossed my mind that I could ask him out as a friend.

"Jacob at his mother's?" I change the subject abruptly. I haven't seen any sign of the youngest Mitchell since I came in, so I guess he's still in California. Riley isn't the sort of person to hire a baby sitter for longer than a day, so he's probably with his mother. Riley's cheating ex-wife. She doesn't really care about Jacob, but she keeps an eye out for him just to prove that she'd be a better parent than Riley.

"Yeah." Jacob's a good kid. I used to e-mail him and talk to him on the phone a lot. Visiting… not so much. I love Jacob, but he looks so much like Riley. As much as I hate to admit it, he's a constant reminder that Riley could have had a happier life, and that hurts.

"Warrick Brown. Do you think he'll find who did it?" I sigh and look up from the floor. Riley's pacing now. He's uncomfortable. Neither of us likes talking about our family. Talking about his sister… we've never had a conversation about our siblings. We talked about our parents after their trials, but my brother and his sister never came up.

I don't know how he feels about all of this. I think that- in spite of everything- he loves Ruth. She's his sister no matter what she did. But he hates her, too. She left him. She ran away and left him. He'll answers any questions Warrick has honestly, but I'm not sure if he'll bother paying attention to the case after that. I don't think he knows what he'll do either.

"Warrick's a good CSI. We all are. Odds are, he'll find whoever killed her." I hesitate before adding a bit to that. He needs to know. I can't let him figure out during questioning. "He did some research. He knows about what we went through."

The only sign that he hears me is his hands clenching into tight fists. Then he relaxes and leans his head back on the top of the chair. "You're sleeping on the couch, I take it?"

"Yeah. You get to sleep on my bed." He rolls his eyes at my answer, looking vaguely annoyed. I think he was hoping that I was doing well enough to at least sleep in my own bed. Then he looks at the empty pill bottles and smiles sadly.

"Right. Good night then. We can talk in the morning, if you'd like."

I wait for the sound of my bedroom door closing before lying down. That went well, all things considered. I like talking to Riley, even when it's uncomfortable. He's a good friend.

_"Something you need very badly."_


	12. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

AN: Hm... I should probably update I Already Knew soon.

* * *

I don't follow Riley into the morgue. I've seen her once, and that's more than I needed. Riley doesn't look too enthusiastic about seeing Ruth either. He barely spoke over breakfast. Well, what qualifies as breakfast. We made pancakes. Him not speaking isn't unusual, but the way his eyes were glazed over scared me a little. It reminded me of the expression I see in the mirror every day.

He didn't even drive the way he normally does. I never figured out why, but he seems to have a thing for breaking as many traffic laws as possible. This time he didn't even break the speed limit. He was too caught up in his thoughts to drive recklessly. It really is scary to see him so out of sorts.

I remember the first time I had to go down to the police station to pick him up. I had just finished some modifications on his car the day before, and had already set out some money that could be used for bail. The officer who arrested him said that Riley had been going 70 in a 25 mph zone. And he didn't have his license on hand.

_"I'm pretty sure he was supposed to be the sane one out of the three of us."_

I don't know how I'd handle myself if my brother showed up on Doc Robbins table. Part of me hates him for leaving me with Mom and Dad- and for not telling me that our lifestyle wasn't… customary. The other part… I remember how he used to pick me up and tuck me in to bed at night. Whenever Mom and Dad hit me hard enough to keep me on the floor, he'd be there. The more romantic part of me believes that he was my guardian angel. He took me to the beach. The park. He would forge Dad's signature so I could go on field trips. He was the one who named me while Mom was passed out from drugs and exhaustion.

But he left me. He left me there, knowing what they would do. I can't count the number of times I nearly died. He was always the one who convinced Mom and Dad that a trip to the hospital was necessary. I never managed to stay conscious long enough to explain how badly I needed a doctor.

I'm glad my brother's not in there. I think I still love him. Not the way I loved him when we were children- I'll never feel that overwhelming sense of devotion towards him again- but I care about him. The thought of him dead scares me. It's a bit ridiculous. I haven't seen him since I was nine, yet I'm still attached to him.

I'm not sure if Riley feels the same way about his sister. Ruth. Their relationship… I never really understood how close they were. She would pick him up and hug him, yes, but she was a touchy-feely person. Riley never talked about it. Not to me, at least. He might've mentioned something to someone else. For about a month after Mom killed Dad, we couldn't look meet each other's eyes.

The sound of footsteps brings me out of my thoughts and I look up at Riley. He's pale. And his hands are shaking. He looks… I guess he looks confused. Lost. I don't think he knows how he should be feeling right now.

I walk over and sling an arm around his shoulders. I don't hug him, though he looks like he could use one. As much as he needs the comfort, physical contact isn't the best way to give it to him. Even having my arm loosely around him is a little much.

"I think some of Greg's coffee is already in the break room. Something warm to drink is probably a good idea right now." He doesn't like coffee. When he needs caffeine, he drinks a soda. If he wants something warm he gets hot chocolate and caffeine pills. Never coffee. Oh well. I'm not waiting until we get back to my apartment to snap him out of his thoughts.

* * *

_"He looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole."_

Riley's sitting next to me on the break room couch. He's staring into his cup of coffee with a blank expression on his face. He's taken a few sips, and besides rolling his eyes at the first taste, he hasn't done anything to complain. When he gets around to opening his mouth, we're probably going to end up having one of our serious discussions. Which I hate.

"Have you ever thought about what it would be like to talk to one of them?" I watch as his grip on the coffee cup threatens to crumple the styrofoam. He hates these discussions too. Too bad both of us realize that they're more than necessary.

I consider his question. I've thought about talking to Mom. I've thought about asking her why the drugs meant more to her than her husband's life. I've thought about asking her if she would have been a good mother if it weren't for her addictions. I've thought about asking why her children deserved so much pain. Mostly, though, I've thought about yelling at her. Screaming my lungs out until I ran out of things to say.

I never visited her in prison. I came close a few times, but I always had a panic attack before seeing her. I suppose I just wasn't tough enough to go through with it. Not surprising. If Dad was the one in prison, I could probably see him. He beat the crap out of me and violated me in the worst possible way, but he didn't talk the way she did. Mom preferred to use words. I felt more secure when she took out that damn knife of hers. At least then I had some idea of what would happen.

"Yeah."

He smiles at my monosyllabic response before going back to contemplating his coffee. His grip has loosened, at least. That's good. The less tense he is, the better. I'm not very good at dealing with a tense Riley. He's too much like me.

_"Difficult. Both of you."_

"I thought about what I would have said to my mother for years, you know. She would have been out of jail pretty quickly if she had lived through rehabilitation. I thought about visiting Dad a lot, too. I thought about what I would say; how he would react; whether or not the guard would have to break the two of us up…" He pauses. I think I can see the beginning of tears in his eyes. "I never thought about talking to my sister. Not one damn time. I just… no matter how many times I thought about her, I never thought about talking to her. I figured… if we ever met up… I would just turn around and walk the other way. I never considered actually talking to her. And now she's dead! How the hell am I supposed to feel? I was ten the last time we communicated! She abandoned me… left me with those… people…" Riley trails off and starts shaking his head.

I sigh and take Riley's coffee from him before he burns himself. The cup's about to fall apart. I don't know what to say to him. I really wish Amy could be here right now. Riley and I really are too similar. Amy… Amy always knew how to deal with us. No matter what.

"Jacob didn't even know he had an aunt! I never bothered to tell him about- damn it! He never bothered to ask why he only met his mother's parents and siblings… now he's asking about his aunt. Ruth. He wants to know why I never talked to him about my family. I don't have any idea what I'm supposed to say to him."

I flinch. Jacob's probably not too thrilled right now. He's staying with his mother because the aunt he's never even heard of was murdered. He'll want his father to give him some answers when they're both back home. I don't know how Riley's going to handle it. I don't think I could deal with something like that.

"Uh- Mr. Mitchell?" Warrick's standing in the doorway with a file in hand. I don't have to see the words to know that it's Ruth's file. Riley looks up at the new person and shifts awkwardly. He squeezes my hand gently before standing up to greet Warrick.

"Yeah. I understand you want to ask me a few questions, Mr. Brown?" He has a small smile on his face that doesn't seem entirely forced.

"Right. Would you follow me please?"

Riley nods, the odd little smile still in place. "Sure. Sara, you can head back to your apartment if you want to. I could just take a cab back. I don't want to cause you any trouble."

"You're kidding, right? I'm staying here until you're done." No matter what Warrick asks, Riley's going to be reminded of his childhood. I doubt he'll be thinking well enough to call a cab after that.

After Warrick and Riley leave I lean into the back of the couch and sigh. I'm glad that Riley's going to be around for awhile. Really. But sometimes it's just… difficult to have him around.

"_Says **you**."_


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** I do not own CSI.**  
**

**AN: **After stumbling across some spoilers, I'm not sure if I'm going to have the miniature killer in this. It could potentially make things difficult.

* * *

_"Why?"_

_"Amy-"_

_"No, Sara. Tell me why you did this to yourself. Tell me what the **hell** you were thinking when you did this! Actually, no- you obviously weren't thinking, so I guess you can't answer that. What the hell was running through your head?"_

_"I just wanted it all to go away! I was sick of everything, and I just couldn't take it anymore!"_

_"Well great. That explains why you tried to kill yourself, but it doesn't explain why you were cutting your arms and legs to pieces!"_

_"I'm used to pain! It's the only constant I have!"_

_"No, it isn't! You have me, you idiot! You have me, and that's never going to change! I'm always going to be there for you no matter what! Nothing's going to change that, Sara! I care about you too damn much to ever abandon you!"_

"Sara? Sara, are you okay?"

Catherine? What's Catherine doing in my hospital roo- damn it. I fell asleep in the break room. Again. Wonderful. I guess my falling asleep at inopportune times hasn't gone away. Just great. If someone besides Catherine kept on finding me, I'd probably feel slightly less disgusted with myself. As it is… I hate feeling vulnerable around her.

I open my eyes and look up at Catherine. I blink a few times to get a clearer picture of her. She's standing above me looking concerned. She almost looks like an angel with the light above her head.

"Uh, hey Catherine." I almost say 'what's up' in my effort to act nonchalant, but I bite my tongue in time to cut off the statement. That's something Greg would say. Not me. If I say something like that, Catherine will definitely know something's up. I don't think I can handle her interrogating me. She can be scary when her maternal instincts kick in.

"That was some nightmare."

Fuck. I better not have been talking in my sleep. She's still here… I guess not. I can't imagine anyone sticking around if they heard… She must not have heard anything. It was probably just incoherent mumbling and sweating. Not that that's great, either. But it's better than her hearing… all of that. She's still here.

_"I stayed, didn't I?"_

It's a miracle that Amy stuck around after that conversation. The thought of someone besides her caring enough to stay is ridiculous. Riley didn't really have a choice in staying. We share our demons too closely to be put off by each other. I don't count him. Maybe I should, but I don't.

"Yeah… uh, you didn't happen to hear anything, did you?" I don't want to ask. I really don't. But I can't help myself. I need to know if she heard anything. She clearly didn't hear it all, but she's a CSI. She could put the pieces together if she wanted to, depending on what she heard. And then I'd lose a friend. I don't want that to happen.

"I didn't hear anything, I promise. You were just looking extremely distressed. Sara… do you want to tell me what's going on with you?"

The question- as well as the concerned look in her eyes- catches me off guard. She's giving me a choice about talking to her. I'm not used to being given a choice. Even with Grissom, it was always, 'I want to know'. He never demanded me to tell him anything, but he didn't give me a choice, either. Catherine giving me the option of staying quiet… it's refreshing.

"No." Catherine tries to hide her flinch, but I still see it. I didn't mean to hurt her. I was just trying to answer her question. "Sorry. It's just- I really don't want to talk about it. I didn't mean to sound like such a jerk about it, that's just how it came out. Sorry." I look down at my hands and wait for her to say something.

"Don't worry about it." She shifts her stance so that her right leg is supporting most of her weight. "Look, I know you don't want to talk about it right now, but if you change your mind, feel free to call me or drive by my house." I look up to meet her eyes only to find her avoiding my gaze. A light blush is decorating her cheeks.

I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I'll be taking her up on it any time soon. I can't even talk to Riley about what's running through my head. I probably should- he'll want to get back to Jacob as quickly as possible- but I can't. Maybe in a few more months… not now. Of course not. Not when he's less than a hundred yards away from me. What sense does that make?

"Thanks for the offer, Cath, but I don't think I can really talk about this. Not any time soon, at least. It's… it's a bit complicated."

_"Things always are with you."_

"Okay." She sits down next to me on the couch and picks up a magazine. I guess we're done talking. Weird. Usually people want to get far away from me after they're done talking to me. It's actually a bit uncomfortable. My nervousness is making my entire body heat up, and I'm conscious of every millimeter separating us; grateful for each one.

I look over at the doorway and smile sadly when I see Riley blocking the entryway. He's lost his neglected puppy look; now he just looks exhausted. He smiles when he notices me staring, though, and takes a few more steps into the room.

"I think I'm about ready to go, Sar." I nod and try not to jump up from the couch. I don't want Catherine to see how on edge I am around her. I don't want to her to think that I can't stand being so close to her. That's sort of the truth, I suppose, but I don't want to hurt her feelings.

After standing up slower than really makes sense, I meet Catherine's eyes to say my goodbye. But she's staring at Riley. She doesn't look too happy that he's in the room for some reason. There's a small frown on her face. She doesn't know who he is, so I don't know what the problem is.

_"Aren't CSIs supposed to be observant?"_

"Catherine, this is Riley Mitchell- Ruth's younger brother." I can't help the shudder that runs through me as I say that. Calling him Ruth's brother sounds wrong. I have never introduced him like that. I've never wanted to. There's a bitter taste in my mouth now. "Riley, this is CSI Catherine Willows- a friend." That also sounds awkward, but not in the same way. It feels like I should say more than that she's my friend. But I don't know what else there is to add, so I shut up.

Catherine nods her greeting and smiles awkwardly. Riley just mumbles an unenthusiastic 'hey'. I don't think either of them is in the mood for talking. I should probably take Riley back to my apartment and make sure he isn't going to have a panic attack on me.

"See ya', Catherine." I take Riley's forearm in my hand and practically drag him out of the break room. I really don't feel comfortable with the two of them near each other for some reason. Maybe I'm just cracking.

"You're driving," Riley whispers. I start, but still manage to catch the keys he tosses at my head.

Wonderful. He must be really out of it if he's letting me drive. I sigh and pocket the keys, moving my other arm to its normal spot around his shoulders. It's going to be a quiet trip.


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** I do not own CSI._  
_

**AN:** I beat expert-level Minesweeper in 89 seconds! YAY!

* * *

_A brunette woman jumped out of her car cheerfully, a bright smile lighting her face and a spark in her eyes. Some of her good mood was clearly derived from the gold ring on her left hand, as whenever the metal brushed against her skin, a full-blown grin developed._

_In seconds she had made it over to the door of her home. It took a bit longer for her to get the key to actually work, though, since it wasn't an original copy. She cursed lightly, though it seemed more out of habit than anything else, since the smile stayed fixed on her face._

_Once inside, she opened her mouth to shout out a greeting, but stopped when an all too familiar scent reached her nose. Her expression froze, and the key dropped from her hand as she stumbled through the house in a daze. Panic was clear in her eyes as she called out for her lover._

_The second she saw the blood covering the living room floor, her entire body seized up. After a few seconds of controlled breathing, she stepped forward shakily, trying desperately to detach herself from the scene._

_When she saw the body of her lover torn apart, she became vaguely aware of the warm liquid flowing down her cheeks. A soft, tortured cry left her, and she kneeled down to touch her icy cold fingers against her lover's cheek._

_Automatically, her trembling hand reached for her phone and dialed 911. The words fell from her lips easily without thought. She stared blankly into the beautiful green eyes she had been in love with for so long, not really believing what her own eyes were telling her._

Oh, God. Oh, God, why couldn't it have just been a nightmare? Why couldn't I be waking up in our bed where I belong- with her? Tears roll down my cheeks, and I grab the pillow I was resting on to muffle any sobs that might escape. None do. I just don't have the energy.

I get up from the couch shakily, and move haltingly over to my bathroom door. I push it open a bit more and lean my forehead against the cool faucet over the sink. The combination of that and some very deep breaths fight back the growing need to throw up. My overwhelming body temperature also seems to calm down.

I collapse on the cold floor and lean my head against the wall. I can't decide. I kind of wish Riley hadn't decided to go back home so soon. On the other hand, I don't think I'd want him to see how torn up I am right now.

I open my eyes and almost laugh when the first thing I see is the knife. I never managed to put it away. I reach out my hand to grab it. I need it so badly right now. I can't deal with this. The nightmares aren't quite as bad as… as actually being there was. But hell… that doesn't mean I can fucking handle them!

I fight back the wave of tears and nausea and focus on grabbing the knife. A second before I reach it, my vision blurs and my head drops. I'm staring at my tattoo now. …Damn it.

I gave her my word. I promised her. I have never broken a promise to her. Ever.

Nearly hysterical laughter escapes as I immediately think of Zach. The coldhearted bastard who made sure Riley and I never got hurt when we spent a night on the streets. He never made promises. Ever. He refused to chance breaking his word. That's never made so much damn sense.

I promised Amy.

Fuck.

* * *

I lean against my car and wait for Catherine to come out of the lab. We get to work a robbery together. Wonderful. That shouldn't take up too much concentration, given how long both of us have been doing this. She'll be able to talk to me. And I'll be able to think. 

I fiddle with the chain around my neck and close my eyes. Riley told me I should consider talking to a professional about everything. He went through the same lousy experience I did with the DA's shrink, but he saw a counselor after his divorce anyway. Apparently it helped.

_"There actually are **some** decent shrinks."_

"You ready to go, Sidle?"

I open my eyes and smile halfheartedly at Catherine. At least she didn't ask me what was wrong first thing. Maybe she's willing to let it go. Or maybe she's given up. The second option turns my stomach. I don't want her to give up on me. I like being her friend! I really like being her friend!

"Yeah. You wanna drive?"

She gives me a look, but rolls her eyes and holds out her hand for my keys. I hand them to her and open the passenger door. I relax into my seat and wait for Catherine to start the car. I hear her get in and sigh despairingly and a smile come to my face. She hasn't given up on me, then.

_"Of course she hasn't."_

"You don't usually let people drive your car. I feel special."

She's teasing me. She doesn't usually do that. I should be the one feeling special. Not her. Well, no, she should be special- she's Catherine Willows for crying out loud- but not because I'm letting her drive my car.

"Sara?"

I sigh and turn back to Catherine. I tense when I see how she's looking at me. She looks concerned, but there's something else there that scares me. It's warm and overwhelming and comforting and…

I look back out the window and try not to hyperventilate. It was nothing. We're friends, and that's it. I'm just… I'm just imagining things, nothing more. I'm being an idiot. Not getting at least three hours of sleep has always messed with my head.

A pair of arms wraps around my waist and I tense. I know it's Catherine, but irrational fear still courses through my vain for a few moments. Then I relax and lean back into the hug. It's… nice. I shift in my seat and return the hug hesitantly.

After a few content minutes, I pull back awkwardly and avoid eye contact. I can feel Catherine's eyes on me, but I still don't look up. The hug might have been nice, but the tension left over in the car… I swallow around the lump in my throat and pull at my jacket sleeve.

Finally she speaks up. "Sorry. You just looked like you needed that."

_"More than you know."_

I nod, but some of the tension is still there. What just happened here? She just hugged me because we're friends… that's it. That has to be it. It can't mean anything else- it just can't. We're just friends. Friends hug each other. I'm making a big deal out of nothing. She's just being caring. Maternal instincts and all that.

"Thanks." I hate how breathy my voice sounds. What's wrong with me today? I'm completely messed up. Between the nightmare and… whatever this is… I need some serious help. Not the sort Riley suggested, but…

I look back at Catherine and feel my face heat up. Not the sort of help Riley suggested **yet**, at least.


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I don't own CSI. And I'm really getting sick of typing that out.

* * *

I got the short straw tonight. Greg and Nick got a homicide and Warrick's looking into a robbery. Catherine took a few days off. I feel a bit guilty wishing I had more work to do. We see people on the worse days of their lives… I should be relieved whenever it's quiet enough for me to stay in the lab catching up on paperwork. Not that I'm actually getting any of it done. My focus is shot. I'm doodling little stars around the date- 

Oh God.

It's almost been a year. My hands freeze over the paper I'm supposed to be filling out. One year. Tomorrow… three hours from now… the anniversary of her… oh damn it… Bile rises in my throat and I lean over the table to try and calm my breathing without someone noticing. One year… a wave of nausea hits me and a low whimper escapes my lips. I'm still in the lab… glass walls… someone will see if I don't pull myself together quickly.

I wipe at my eyes and glare at the liquid that slides down my fingers. Damn it… I can't do this right now. I just can't. I could end up contaminating whatever crime scene I wind up at if I stay. And it's… too much. Any body I look at… any picture of a once happy couple… any pets… It'll all remind me of what happened. I can't handle that tonight. Tomorrow morning. Whatever. It's dangerous for me to be working right now.

I reach down for my cell phone and flip it open. I start a text message for Grissom telling him that I'm too sick for work. It's the truth. I really do feel sick. Feverish, nauseous, sore throat and a rapidly growing headache. Sick. Can't stay at work because I'm sick. I shouldn't handle evidence or be going through crime scenes because I'm sick.

I send the text message and push up from the cold table. My hands shake in front of my face and I flip the paper I was working on over to its blank side. The shaking lessens and my throat opens up enough for me to take a few deep breaths. I should go back to my apartment. I need… something. Alcohol; pills… something. Anything. I can't deal with this.

Especially not at work. I'm still at work. I need to get back to my apartment and take some drug that'll let me forget. That'll **make** me forget. I run my hand through my hair and shake my head. Bad line of thought. That's too similar to how I started cutting myself, and **that** is not an option. It hasn't been for twenty years.

I force myself not to run through the halls. Nervous energy is all that I can feel. A few months ago, I could go to Grissom. The disgust was nothing next to being able to think clearly again. Now I can't do anything. I can't call Riley. He's still going through his own stuff with Jacob. I'm not sure if he's actually managed to talk to his son yet. He can't help me.

I stop in front of my car, breathing hard. My breath fogs up the window quickly. After a few tries, I manage to get the key to work, and I open the door. I collapse in the front seat and wipe away the tears that I know have to be falling. I hate it when I can't even bother to cry. I did this after Mom was convicted. For months, I just couldn't stop the tears, and I had no idea why. Half the time I wasn't even sad.

Now… I'm more than sad. I'm heartbroken, and I'm still not actually crying. I lean back against the seat and stare blankly out at the lab. What did I do? Why did I get this fucked up life? Mom and Dad always told me I deserved it… what the hell did I do that was so damn horrible?

I close my eyes. All I can see is the knife that's still on my bathroom floor. I open my eyes and a shiver runs through my spine. I can't be alone tonight. I'll hurt myself. I know I will. No matter what I promised, the pain in my chest is enough to make me break it. The memory of her beautiful eyes frozen in fear… I remember closing them just before Josh and the detective got there. I remember wondering, later, if doing that had destroyed crucial evidence that would have caught the killer. The rational part of my brain says that I barely touched her. I haven't been rational in nearly a year.

I'm sort of glad they didn't catch whoever did it. I can still hear myself telling the guys and Catherine that I could never take a life. Back then, I had Amy. Not quite the way I wanted her, but I had her. Now, I don't have her. And I want the bastard who made it that way to be dead.

I can't go stay with Riley. He isn't here. I can't talk to Grissom. Even if I were still using him, I wouldn't be able to say anything. Zach… he would tell me to grow up, get over it, and continue living my wretched life. Using those exact words. …I don't think I can put up with him right now. I can't think of anyone else reasonable. I haven't seen my friends in almost a year, and even if they were in the city and willing to talk to me… Tori would be working, Tiffany and Rose would ask if I felt up for a threesome, and Kit would try to take me clubbing.

Catherine. I could drop by Catherine's house. But… she took those days off so that she could spend the weekend with Lindsey. She'll want to spend all of that time with her daughter. Not with me. We have breakfast after shift occasionally, but there's a huge difference between that and showing up at her house asking if I can sleep over.

I start the car. She's always asking if I want to talk. All we have to do is talk. I can go back to my apartment afterwards.

* * *

"Oh God, are you okay? Sara?" 

I can't stop staring at her. She's wearing pajama bottoms and a tank top. An extremely low-cut tank top. She looks… She really looks amazing. I didn't interrupt her with a boyfriend, did I? My chest hurts at the thought. I hope not. Coming here during her off time was bad enough.

I don't know how long I've been staring at her. A while, probably, since she's pulling me into her house and closing the door behind me. I tear my gaze away from her and look down at my still shaking hands. I can't feel them anymore. I thought they had stopped shaking.

Catherine places a warm hand against my cheek, and I lean into it. She's wiping away the tears. It's nice. I watch the mild surprise and worry flash in her eyes. She didn't think I'd let her touch me. I rarely accept it without flinching. But right now I really need some sort of attachment to someone.

She gently pulls me over to the couch and into her arms. For a second my mind goes blank. She's holding me like Amy used to. I feel safe in her arms. Safe and warm. But it's not Amy… It's not Amy holding me and… and oh God, I need this so badly. I curl into Catherine's body and try not to cry at how wrong and right it feels.


	16. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Immi does not own CSI.

AN: Info for 'IAK' on my profile. And Immi's playing catch-up, since Lady Heather ep is bound to spark something._  
_

* * *

_"Why am I here again?"_

_"Because you love me."_

_"Right… Why'd you punch him anyway?"_

_"The bastard started mouthing off about the stabbing. He deserved much more than a stupid black eye, but a teacher showed up and yelled at me before I could do anything else."_

_"Star, you don't have to defend me. It doesn't bother me all that much- really."_

_"It bothers me. You're my best friend, Sara, and you don't seem to realize that no one has the right to make fun of what happened. I saw you afterwards, remember? It was no laughing matter. They shouldn't be allowed to turn it in to one."_

_"I'm really your best friend?"_

_"Yeah. You're really my best friend."_

Someone's stroking my wrist. And holding me. It isn't Amy. It will never be Amy again. So who's doing that? It feels nice… It isn't Amy comforting me, but it still feels so nice. I open my eyes to see whose arms I'm lying in. I close them again immediately. It's too bright. Way too bright. I'm not in my apartment, then.

"Feeling any better?"

Catherine. I left work and drove over to Catherine's house because… anniversary. It's been one year. We've never been apart for more than a few weeks. And it's been a year. How did that happen? I guess… Grissom kept me numb for nine months… I guess I've had Catherine for the other three… I know I haven't been having fun. A year… damn it.

I blink away the tears starting to form at the thought. I don't want to start crying again. If I start crying again, that will definitely concern Catherine enough for her to start prying. When I tell her, I want it to be because I want to.

**If** I tell her. 'When' is a little too optimistic. I still have a hard time believing that this friendship thing will really last. Eventually we'll get into an argument, and then we'll be back to regularly sniping at each other. My chest aches thinking about it, but I just don't think this will really last that long. I know she wants to be my friend, but I'm not sure that our personalities will allow it.

"Not really." I still feel like hell.

I look down at my wrist. Her thumb's stroking my tattoo. I guess… I guess the makeup wore off. I feel sort of relieved. I love my tattoo, and I hate covering it up for work. Being able to stare at it again is nice. I can almost forget that it's been twenty years. But it has been. It has been, and now Amy's gone. And she's not coming back.

I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath in an attempt to regain control of myself. But I can't. Before I even realize it, tears are flowing out of my eyes all over again. Damn it. I don't want to be crying. I want… I want Amy. I want her to be the one holding me right now. And it hurts so badly that she isn't.

"When did you get the tattoo?"

I look up at Catherine only to find her eyes glued to my wrist. I force a smile, slightly grateful for the distraction. I'm not sure if I really want to tell her why I got it, but I don't have a problem telling her when I got it. Even if it might give her another thing to question her daughter about.

"When I was about sixteen."

Her eyes flash with mild worry before she closes them and sighs.

"How did you manage to get a tattoo when you were sixteen?"

I consider answering the question, but decide against it. My friend Charlie's philosophy when it came to minors getting tattoos was that, 'if they manage to sit through the pain, they deserve the damn tattoo'. I doubt that would make Catherine worry any less. For all I know, telling her that could cause Lindsey to lose a few privileges.

"Don't worry. The odds of Lindsey getting one the way I did are pretty slim."

Catherine nods. She looks relieved. I guess she really was worried that her little girl could go out and get a tattoo. I guess that means that as far as Lindsey knows, I got it when I was in my twenties. Should be easy enough to remember.

"What about this?"

Catherine's hand traces the dark scar that Mom gave me. I shudder slightly. I don't like remembering what happened there. When Mom gave me that… it was the first time I wondered if all kids really lived like I did. And that, more than the pain, terrified me. Thinking like that made me feel sick.

"Courtesy of my mother."

The stroking stops for a second, and Catherine lets out a breathy sigh. I don't know why I answered her. It might have something to do with me being too tired to concoct a lie, but I think that part of me really wants to tell her.

"Hippies, huh?"

I smile faintly. That's a better reaction than I had any right to hope for. I half-expected to be thrown off of the couch. Her light tone is much better. Even if she's forcing it to be light, it's nice. Really, really nice.

"They ran a B&B and they did drugs. What would you call them?"

She hugs me lightly. "You probably don't want to know what I would call them."

We stay quiet for a few moments. I feel her staring at the scar, probably wondering what I did that caused such a horrible punishment. Some of the details are a bit fuzzy, but I seem to remember something about a parent-teacher conference that Mom needed to go to because of my grades. Mom wanted me to dumb myself down, and when I didn't, she decided to try removing my hand so that I wouldn't be able to do my schoolwork.

"What happened there?"

Her hand moves up to touch one of my worst mistakes. My body freezes, and for a second my tears even stop falling. Then I take a deep breath and lean back into Catherine's warm body. She seems to feel my shift inward, and she starts playing with my hair to relax me.

"Sorry. I don't mean to pry. It's just… I'd like to know more about you. You're interesting."

Her comment makes me smile. I start to say something, but then Lindsey's downstairs, and whatever moment we were having is interrupted. The teenager gapes at the two of us for a minute, but then she sighs and goes over to a cupboard to grab a bowl. I wipe the tears out of my eyes and start to remove myself from Catherine's pleasant grip.

"I should go… let you spend time with your daughter."

I'm about to get off of the couch when Catherine grabs my arm and pulls me back down.

"Sara… she just got up. She's hardly sociable this early in the morning. You're my friend- that doesn't change when my daughter walks into the room. If you're done talking, fine. But if you aren't, please don't let Lindsey force you to go back to your apartment."

I sigh and try to glare at her. My attempt causes her to look at me sympathetically and wipe away a stray tear. I shake my head and run a hand through my hair. Lindsey is not forcing me out of her house. Seeing her just reminded me why I'm at Catherine's in the first place. Catherine took a few days off to spend time with her daughter. Not with me.

"I think I should leave. Thanks… for everything."

Catherine looks disappointed, but not surprised. We both get up and walk to the front door. Once there, she turns to look at me. She has a warm look in her eye. For a second it nearly makes me panic, but then she leans forward and wraps her arms around me, and everything's okay.

"I hope everything gets better soon. I hate seeing you like this."

I return the hug gently before pulling away. The tenderness in her eyes bothers me a bit, but it also makes me feel better. So I guess it isn't so bad. I walk out the door and head towards my car.

My relationship with Catherine is weird… but I'm pretty sure it's a good weird.


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **I do not own CSI. Or the lines used from 'The Good, the Bad, and the Dominatrix'.

**AN:** This chapter was fun. Meaning it gave me a headache.

* * *

_"Archer."_

_"Hey… it's Sara."_

_"No kidding. I recognize your voice, Dreamer."_

_"Right…"_

_"…Are you okay? Did something happen at work? Do you need me to come over?"_

_"I'm fine. Really. Just… there was this case and… I kind of lost it with Catherine. Ecklie saw the whole thing and I ended up suspended… Grissom came over. He asked… Star, I told him about the stabbing."_

_"I'll be there in ten minutes."_

My phone's ringing. My home phone. Who calls my home number? Everyone at work always calls my cell. So whoever's calling me isn't calling about work. Damn it. Work I can deal with. Anything personal… I can't think of a single positive thing that could come from picking up that phone. I listen to the ringing for a few more seconds before the machine gets it.

_"**Sara, it's Riley. I, uh, called to talk to you, but I guess you aren't there right now, so bye."**_

I flip myself off of the couch and snatch up the phone. He might not actually want to talk to me, but if he bothered to leave a message, something is probably wrong. I doubt I'll be able to help- hell, I'll probably make whatever it is worse. Still, he's my friend. I care about him too much to ignore him.

"Don't you dare hang up." He was probably relieved when I didn't pick the phone up before the machine. He sounds nervous. I smile when I hear him sigh. He was definitely relieved when I didn't pick up.

_"**I was kind of hoping you were at work."**_

"Not yet. Sorry." I would be getting ready to leave right now if he hadn't called. It might be my day off, but I can't stand sitting in my apartment all night. I readjust the phone against my ear and sigh. Riley doesn't just sound nervous; he sounds completely exhausted. Whatever he doesn't want to talk to me about, it's been bothering him for a while.

_"**I talked to Jacob."**_

Oh, hell. I forgot about that. I sit back down on the couch and sigh. "How did that go?"

_"**Badly. He was pretty upset with me."**_

Not exactly surprising. If I were in Jacob's place, I'd probably be upset too.

_"Sweet as you are."_

"Did anything specific happen?"

Riley sighs again. I can all but see him running a hand through his hair. _**"He asked me about my sister. About Ruth. I tried to answer them, but… my answers left something to be desired. That got him annoyed, and he ended up yelling at me for still keeping secrets from him, and that got him off on how I just left after telling him the aunt he had never heard of had been murdered."**_

I wince at his account of what happened. That sounds like them. Riley not knowing how to answer his son's questions; Jacob getting upset because his father's still not telling him everything.

_"**Anyway, your name came up."**_

What? How did my name come up? "What?"

_"**Yeah… so you might want to prepare yourself for a call from an angry twelve year old male."**_

He has got to be kidding me. Even if my name came up in their discussion, Jacob still knows that I've been avoiding him for the past year. I can't see him calling me before I let him know I'd be willing to talk to him again- even if it is to yell at me for not telling him about his aunt. "Riley…"

My cell phone starts ringing and I groan. "Give me just a second, okay?" I flip the phone open and sigh. "Sidle."

_"**Hey, Sara. It's Cath. I hate to call you in on your day off, but-"**_

"Catherine? Uh, could you hold on for about ten seconds?" Without waiting for an answer, I drop my cell phone onto a couch cushion. Catherine will probably have something to say about that when I pick the phone up again. Even if she just teases me about it.

I rub the back of my neck and sigh. "Riley, if Jacob calls me, I'll deal with it. And, uh, I'll talk to Warrick about Ruth's case, if you'd like. Look, I'm getting called in. Could we talk later? I- I miss you. I'd like to talk to you, even if it isn't about anything major." I hold my breath and mentally count the seconds it takes for me to get back to Catherine.

_"…**I miss you too. And I would love to talk to you more regularly. I just wasn't sure if it would be welcome. After Amy died… whenever it's been just the two of us… Look, I should really let you run off to work now. If you could talk to CSI Brown about the case that would be great. I'll- I'll call you later. Bye."**_

"Bye, Riley." I hang up on him and pick up my cell phone. I really hope Catherine isn't mad at me. I wasn't exactly polite about putting her on hold. I wanted to wrap up things with Riley before thinking about work, though. I'm not sure how to explain that to Catherine. Maybe I won't have to.

"Catherine… sorry about that. I was just finishing up a conversation on my home phone. So, uh, what can I do for you?" I hold my breath and wait for her to respond.

I hear her laugh a bit. That's a good sign. _**"You're damn lucky I like you so much, Sidle. Greg's helping Grissom with one of his pet projects- literally- Nick and Warrick got a DB. I'm at a family theme park investigating the attempted murder of Lady Heather. I know it's your day off and everything, but working this solo is probably going to give me a headache. Would you mind coming out here?"**_

I was going in to work anyway. And Catherine's quickly become my favorite person to work with. "No problem. If you could just let me know where to go, I'll be there as soon as possible."

She sighs in relief. _**"Thank you, Sara."**_

* * *

"So… what is she like?" I don't know a lot about Lady Heather. Only that she got under Grissom's skin. And that she almost whipped Leon Sneller to death for killing her daughter. I'm more than a little curious. Not in the same way Greg is- I'm just interested in what makes her tick. I asked Nick about her, and I got a rant about her lifestyle. I can't see Catherine being that narrow-minded. 

"Beautiful, smart, intense…Charming."

I glance over at Catherine and roll my eyes. It sounds like Lady Heather got under more than one CSI's skin. It's a little uncomfortable to think about Catherine admiring someone like that, but I can't help teasing her a little.

"Sounds like you have a bit of a crush, Catherine."

She jerks her head around to look at me. I didn't cross some sort of a line, did I? She stares for a few more seconds before a slow smile forms on her face. I guess I just shocked her, then. I've never really teased her before. Teasing her about a crush on a female dominatrix was probably a bit of a shock.

_"For several reasons."_

"Well, she is **damn** gorgeous." She winks at me, grinning broadly now. "And I do pride myself on being at least somewhat observant."

I smile back at her before turning back to the scene. It's weird. Hearing so much about a person and not actually meeting her. I don't know how many people in the lab have actually seen her, but whenever her name pops up on paperwork, all of the lab techs start talking. I guess she's just one of those people.

"She really horsewhipped the guy who killed her daughter?" That part of it… I really wish I didn't understand that. I wish I didn't understand how hurting someone that badly could be justified.

"Yeah. You know, if someone ever laid a finger on Lindsey, I'd kill them. Still, I'm not sure I could do what Heather did. That- that was really something."

I glance over at Catherine and sigh. "Yeah. Sounds like it."

* * *

I walk into Lady Heather's hospital room while Jim is questioning her. I can see what Catherine meant. She looks exhausted and the bruises on her neck are spectacular… but she is damn gorgeous. I feel a flash of guilt. I was unfaithful when I slept with Grissom, but at least I wasn't attracted to him. Sorry, Star. 

"Hi. I'm with the crime lab. Sara Sidle. I'm here to collect your clothes and any trace evidence from your body." She probably knows that already, but I'm too used to explaining myself to victims to stop the words from coming out. And I think I might be a little nervous about what she might pick up from my body language.

"Can I say no?"

I stay quiet for a few moments. I'm not entirely sure that I want to know why she doesn't want me collecting trace evidence. Jim takes advantage of my silence.

"You don't want help, that's OK by me. Just don't waste my time. I've got a lot of cases on my desk that need my attention. So when you come out of your haze, give me a call."

Jim leaves the room, leaving me alone with Heather. I fidget with my camera and try to ignore the feeling of her concentrating on me. She senses my discomfort and smiles slightly.

"I don't respond well to men who judge me based solely on my profession."

I nod slowly. Can't really blame her. I remember what one of the dayshift lab techs was like when he found out that Catherine had been a stripper- he treated her like crap until Bobby punched him.

"I get that a lot too. Law enforcement." It's amazing how many civilians stop being cooperative when they realize that just because CSIs don't wear shiny badges doesn't mean that they aren't law enforcers.

I shake my head to clear it. I'm not in this hospital room to make small talk. I focus my gaze on the bruises around her neck. Her hair's in the way. I won't be able to get a complete shot of the marks unless I move it.

"May I move your hair?" I wait for her to nod her consent before I move her hair away from her neck. I take a few pictures of the bruises before backing away slightly. Those really must have hurt. I've never had the pleasure of being choked with a rope. I guess Dad felt that his hands could do more than enough damage.

I try not to think about the woman I'm photographing. My imagination keeps on producing images of her whipping Sneller to death, and I feel guilty thinking that she should have been allowed to finish him off. I shake my head again, but it doesn't help. I readjust my camera slightly and sigh.

"Look, I don't know if it'll mean anything to you at all, but…" I take a deep breath. "Leon Sneller deserved it. Assaulting him like might have been against the law, but he still deserved it. I just… I just wanted to say that." I don't know if I could do something like that to Amy's killer. But there's no question in my mind that the bastard deserves to be in as much pain as she was when she died.

I continue gathering evidence in silence. She hasn't responded to what I said. I'm pretty sure I don't want her to, though, so it doesn't bother me. I prefer the silence, anyway.

"Thank you, Ms. Sidle." Her whisper is faint, but I hear it. Not really sure how to respond to that, I just nod my head. There are a few more moments of silence before the door squeaks open. Grissom. He looks worried. I try to smile reassuringly at him.

"I'll be done in a minute."

* * *

"Have you ever wanted to slap Grissom?" I look up from the crime scene photos and smile grimly at Catherine. 

"Many times. Why?"

She rolls her eyes. "He spent the night at Lady Heather's. I can understand being worried about a friend, but I'm not sure his timing could have been worse. And then he acts like, well, **Grissom** and… It was just annoying. When my personal life got involved with work, he gave me the cold shoulder."

I'm guessing she's referring to the Novak case. That guy was a complete bastard. I can't really understand what she was doing kissing him. I guess I can understand needing a life outside of work, but having a life doesn't mean going home with strangers from bars.

"Do you want to go out and get something to eat? I think we could both use some sort of break."

I don't really need a break, but if I tell her that, she'll probably disagree with me and drag me out to eat anyway. And going out to eat with Catherine sounds really, really nice. Telling her that would probably cause her to check if I have a fever.

"Sure." I make sure to look her in the eye when I say it, and sure enough, she looks shocked. I think she was preparing herself for some sort of battle. I can't really blame her. I can't remember the last time I've gone out to eat with someone from work.

"Great. Let's go."

After making sure the photos are where they're supposed to be, we head out for her car. She's driving since going out to eat was her idea. I sit in the passenger seat quietly, thinking about what I told Lady Heather. I really hope that whoever killed Amy gets shot during his arrest. If they find out who did it. I don't want to think about what I might end up doing to him otherwise.


	18. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

AN: Well, this was interesting to write.

* * *

I stare blankly into my closet and sigh for the millionth time tonight. Why did I agree to do this, again? I know nothing about looking after teenagers. Asking why anyone would want their friend dead is about the extent of what I can deal with. So why did agree to watch Catherine's daughter? Better yet, why did she ask me to? Lindsey doesn't even like me. Whenever she sees Catherine and I standing remotely close to each other, she glares at me. 

That bothers me more than I care to admit. I like Catherine, and I like being friends with her. I don't want either of us to feel uncomfortable with our friendship because her daughter hates me. Not that Lindsey actually hates me. She's just really mad at me most of the time for something I'm not even aware of. I'd like to ask her about it, but I don't want things to get any worse. For all I know, it could just be that she's a teenager.

The one thing I really hope it isn't about is Eddie's case. Catherine and I apologized when we went out for drinks after Hank. But I never got a chance to talk with Lindsey after Vega and I finished interviewing her. It's possible that she's holding a grudge against me because I couldn't find her father's killer. I don't know.

I sigh again, realizing that I have, once again, distracted myself from getting dressed. I don't know why, but lately- whenever I try to figure out what to wear when I'll be seeing Catherine- dressing myself has become an hour-long process. For some reason, knowing that Catherine's going to be out on a date tonight is making the process take even longer. Damn it, what's wrong with me?

_"Take a wild guess."_

T-shirt and jeans. That's easiest. I have to leave in ten minutes, and I shouldn't spend them standing in front of my closet. I rub my hand over my face. Maybe I can plead temporary insanity and get out of watching Lindsey. …No, I can't do that to Catherine. It's been ages since she's gone out anywhere. I'm not going to ruin it for her.

* * *

I try not to think about running away as I knock on the door. I'm really not in my element. I've taken care of Jacob before, yes, but that's… different. He's younger than Lindsey, and he actually likes me. Liked. After more than a year of avoidance, I doubt he cares much anymore. He never did call to yell at me for not telling him about his aunt. 

"Sara! Hey, come on in- I'm still waiting for my date to get here."

I raise my head and feel all conscious thought abandon me. Wow. Her outfit is the most revealing I've ever seen her wear. Outside of the locker room… wow. She's gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Whoever she's going out with tonight is a lucky man.

A burning sensation fills my chest and I can breathe again. What was that? I've always been aware of Catherine's beauty, but I've never been struck dumb by the sheer sight of her. I cough lightly, fighting back the blush that I know is trying to form on my cheeks.

The overwhelming guilt that hits me a second later immediately stops the blood rushing to my face. What is wrong with me? Catherine and I are friends. Just friends. I have no right to look at her like that. And… and… Amy… I love Amy with all my heart. I can't just forget about her.

_"You wouldn't have to."_

I raise my head to meet Catherine's eyes, and I'm surprised to see that instead of a smirk on her face, she's blushing madly. I try to hide my flinch from her. I must have embarrassed her, staring like that. I really didn't mean to, she just looks so beautiful. It's… it's like the reaction I had when I saw Lady Heather the first time… doesn't mean anything…

"Wow, Cat. You look amazing."

If possible, even more blood rushes to her cheeks. She smiles brightly at me before gently gripping my arm and bringing me into her house.

"Thank you, Sara."

I return her smile shyly before diverting my gaze. There's an odd sort of tension in the air, and I think I'm the idiot who caused it. Everything was just fine between us before I started ogling her. Geez… hopefully it will clear up by tomorrow. I don't want to have to work with her while dealing with this. We might end up fighting, and I really don't want to start that ride up again.

"So, er, where's Lindsey?"

That's a safe topic. Why I came here in the first place. Even though I still have no idea why I agreed to watch Lindsey. Right.

"Watching TV. She's done with homework for the day, so you'll actually have to interact with her."

She's smiling at me, but I mock-glare at her anyway. I really don't know how to do this. Interacting with human beings is not something I excel at. Interacting with teenagers… I'm in for a difficult night. Spending a few hours with a teenager who strongly dislikes me. At the very least, it'll be interesting.

"You know, Grissom said something interesting the other day."

I jerk my head back in Catherine's direction and away from the couch in front of the TV. Catherine is pretty much my only connection to my former friend. She understands that I care about him, and every so often she lets me know what's going on in his life. It's nice, but I wish Grissom would be willing to talk to me about things like that himself. Not that I ever deserved it, but I miss his friendship.

"Yeah?"

Catherine nods, looking thoughtful. "Yeah. He's been going over to Heather's every once in a while to talk. She …mentioned you. I think she'd probably like a chance to talk to you. Your first meeting was far from ideal, and, well… I think you managed to pique her interest, from what Grissom said."

I force a smile and nod distractedly. I'm not too sure what to think about that. Meeting Lady Heather was certainly interesting, but I'm not sure how I feel about seeing her again. Every time I think about her, I end up thinking about what I might end doing to whoever slaughtered Amy, and that bothers me.

"So, as soon as my date gets here, you can try to get along with my daughter," she hesitates for a second. "Look, she really does like you. She's just not too sure how to take us going from barely speaking to close friends."

I feel a small amount of relief at her words. I don't want to have a horrible relationship with Lindsey. I'd like to think that Catherine and I will be friends for a long time, and that means that I'll be around Lindsey a lot.

"Right. So-" A knock on the door interrupts my question. Catherine's date, I guess.

"That would be him. If something happens, just call me. Don't worry about finding Nancy or my mother's phone numbers." She walks towards the couch while she talks, kissing Lindsey on the head when she gets there. After saying a quick goodbye to me, she goes to answer the door. I don't bother paying attention to what her date's talking about. Instead, I walk hesitantly towards Lindsey.

"So, uh… what are we going to be doing tonight?" I expect her to glare at me before turning back to the TV, but she doesn't. She turns off the television and turns all of her attention on me.

"Why are you and Mom so close now?"

She's started to get more of Eddie's looks now that she's older, but she's still very much her mother's daughter. Straight to the point. No beating around the bush. I sigh and collapse down on the couch next to her. I'm not entirely comfortable going into the details, but I can give her a vague answer.

"We were sick of fighting. So we decided to give friendship a shot, and it's going well."

Lindsey nods slowly, still not looking away from me. I fight the urge to stare at the floor. Definitely her mother's daughter. I can't believe a teenager is intimidating me.

"You aren't… you don't want to date her or anything?"

I blink. How did she get that? Besides me staring at her earlier, I haven't even hinted at my orientation. We aren't even very tactile. For the most part, I shy away from any contact. I shake my head.

"Your mom is wonderful, but I only see her as a friend."

Lindsey nods again, looking far more relaxed. "Okay then."

For a few seconds neither of us says anything. It's a bit uncomfortable. The loud noises coming out of the television earlier were annoying, but better than silence. Then Lindsey speaks up again. "There's, uh, really nothing on TV. Do you want to watch a movie or something?"

* * *

Three hours later, and Lindsey's asleep. I'm almost asleep. I'm trying to stay awake so that I can let Catherine know that everything went well. Extraordinarily well. We watched 'The Italian Job' and spent about half an hour talking about nothing. I'm actually impressed with myself. I have spent three relatively peaceful hours with a teenager. 

The front door opens and Catherine enters quietly. I think she's trying to make sure that she doesn't wake anyone up. I sit up on the couch and smile at her. Her lipstick is smeared and her hair is mussed. My heart clenches, but I ignore it. It doesn't matter who she's dating. As long as she's happy.

"Hey. You two have fun?"

"Yeah. Watched a movie and talked a little."

She looks relieved. Did she think we'd kill each other off? Of course, we only started getting along tonight.

"Great. Do you want to stay here tonight? You look too exhausted to get back to your apartment in one piece."

"Okay." I really am too tired to drive. I can't even think of a decent argument against me spending the night.

I think Catherine's moving around upstairs now. I'm exhausted. I lean back into the couch pillows and yawn. A few seconds later I feel someone stroking my cheek. Then something heavy and warm is on top of me and I feel myself drifting off to sleep.


	19. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

* * *

___  
"You… you kissed me?"_

___"Yep."_

___"…Why?"_

___"Bobbie Hamilton's been harassing me."_

___"Amy, why did you kiss me?"_

___"I'm a romantic. I wanted my first kiss to be with someone I love. Bobbie's a clueless idiot. A very persistent clueless idiot."_

___"You love me?"_

___"Yep. I love you Dreamer. You're my best friend in the whole world."_

___"…I love you too, Ames. Star."_

It's amazing. Thinking about that moment still makes me smile. The kiss was nothing special- just a gentle caress of lips that left me horribly confused. It actually scared me a little. Back then I was still getting used to letting her near me. But that fear vanished the second she said she loved me.

I had heard the phrase before, of course. My brother said it after Dad beat the crap out of me for the first time, and again the night before he ran away. And I knew that Amy's mother said it to her every day before we left for school together. But when Amy said it…

I smile into the couch pillow and let a few tears trickle into the fabric. That was the first time I really felt loved. After that, it was easier to let her touch me. I started to trust her. I started to realize that she would never hurt me. And I was really happy. A few months later, though, Mom pretty much obliterated that happiness. Amy and I had to work through a lot to get it back.

"Mom, you should probably wake Sara up. She probably won't want to be here when my friends come over."

I lift my head off of the pillow and wince at the brightness. Catherine's house is really bright. It almost makes me wish I had slept at my apartment. Almost. Whenever I sleep over here, I don't feel nearly as guilty sleeping on a couch. And… I really like spending time with Cath. I never thought we could have a friendship like this. I always figured that any sort of friendship between us would involve a lot of awkward moments and apologies.

Catherine walks into my line of sight and smiles when she sees me awake. I guess she wasn't looking forward to waking me up. "Sara, you should probably get off the couch. Lindsey invited some friends over, and they'll be here in about half an hour."

How long was I asleep? It has to be pretty late in the morning if Lindsey's friends are coming over that soon.

"What time is it?"

She smiles at me and sits down on the couch near my feet. "Eleven. I was starting to worry that you'd never wake up. You usually only sleep for an hour or two. Are you feeling okay?"

She leans over and feels my forehead with her wrist. I don't feel the overwhelming urge to flinch away, so I let her touch me. My heart's still beating faster than normal, though. I'm nervous. Why am I nervous? I know Catherine won't hurt me. I can understand feeling a little uncomfortable with her this close, but nervous?

"You're a little warm."

_"Not damn hot?"_

I frown and edge away from Catherine. Maybe I am sick. It's been ages since I've slept for so long, and now I'm feeling… not quite right. I take a deep breath and sit up straight, putting more distance between me and Catherine. It doesn't really help- she just crawls closer.

"I'm going to get you something to drink. Do you like Gatorade?"

I look at her oddly. Gatorade? I drink coffee and, on occasion, water. She should know that. That's all she ever sees me drink. Why is she asking if I like Gatorade? Wouldn't it be easier to just get me some water?

She must have noticed my expression, since she immediately smiles and explains herself. "Whenever Lindsey's sick, she refuses to drink anything but Gatorade. I keep some in the refrigerator. So do you want something?"

I shrug awkwardly. I've never really had Gatorade. I had some at a Giants' baseball game Amy and I went to, but that's about it. Still, I might as well have some, since Catherine's offering. "Sure."

She smiles again, and squeezes my thigh before getting up and heading towards the kitchen. Lindsey takes her place enthusiastically. …And she's glaring at me again. What is it with her? I thought we settled whatever issue there was between us.

"You really don't want to date Mom?"

Instead of just blinking like last night, a horrible sensation develops in my gut, and all I can think about is Amy. The way she'd look at me; the way she'd hold me; the way she'd kiss me; her eyes; her hair; how she'd kiss me; the first time she yelled at me; the sound of her breathing while she would sleep; everything. All of the things I've been dying without.

_"I hate making you feel guilty."_

I force myself to ignore the feeling and meet Lindsey's eyes. "I really don't, Lindsey. I told you last night; I only see her as a friend. As wonderful as she is, there's nothing romantic between us."

She bites her lip and nods hesitantly. I really don't know why this is such a big deal for her. Catherine just went on a date with some guy last night- shouldn't she be more worried about that?

"Lindsey, shouldn't you be cleaning your room for when your friends get here?"

Catherine's back, but she's no longer smiling. She actually looks sad about something. Maybe having Lindsey's friends over reminds her of just how much her little girl's growing up.

Lindsey sighs, but runs up the stairs all the same, leaving Catherine and I alone. I gesture for Catherine to sit on the couch, which she does after handing me a juice box filled with Gatorade. I think it's lemon lime- I'm not good with things like drink flavors. I nod my thanks and tear the straw off of the back.

"I'm sorry."

I frown at Catherine. "For what?"

"Lindsey. I think- she's just worried about me. She overheard me discussing you and Grissom with my sister Nancy. So she knows that you never really had feelings for him. Then you and I started spending so much time together and… well, it wouldn't be the first time I've been with a woman. Lindsey has seen a lot of bad girlfriends and boyfriends hurt me, and I think she was trying to make sure you never got the chance. Sorry."

Catherine dates women? Actually… that's not too much of a surprise. I've always sort of thought that she plays for both teams. I take a sip of Gatorade and smile at her. "Well, dating or not, I'll try to make sure that I'll never hurt you, Cat."

_"That would be easier if you weren't in complete denial."_

* * *

"So Sara, what does Catherine have that I don't?" 

I roll my eyes and suppress a smile as Greg pretends to flex in the bathroom mirror. We're working a homicide together. So far, all we know is that Mrs. Hanson's husband is a complete moron, and someone shot her. When Jim first told us the details of the case, we thought that the husband was a reasonable suspect. Mrs. Hanson had been meeting a divorce lawyer, and according to their neighbors their marriage had been going bad for months. Then we met Mr. Hanson. I doubt that incompetent idiot knows how to work a gun properly.

"I mean, yes, she has amazing hair and eyes along with a body I won't comment on for fear of getting slapped, but c'mon! Do looks really matter when it comes to friendship? Wait- bad example. You are my favorite lady, after all."

I roll my eyes again. It's always nice to work a scene with Greg. It's easier to distance myself from the crime when he's around. I've missed him a lot.

"I'm going to go check out the bedroom. Are you going to stay here and admire yourself?"

He puffs out his chest and grins at me. "Well, I certainly deserve it, don't you think?"

I smile and walk out of the bathroom. It feels like forever since I've actually spent time with Greg. When Amy… I spent most of my spare time with Grissom, and only started talking to Greg again when he got attacked. I never managed to go out for a drink with him, though. Maybe I could try to have breakfast with him after shift or something.

I open the door of the master bedroom and wince. I don't always manage to keep my room tidy, but compared to **this**, my bedroom's sparkly clean. Clothes are all over the place, along with some sex toys, magazines, and assorted books. I'm sure Greg would have enjoyed processing this room.

I walk towards the center of the room, looking around as I go. It doesn't look any tidier than it was from the door. This is going to take a while. I guess I'll start with the bed- that's usually where the most interesting stuff is. I'm move to close the blinds, but the sound of a ring tone stops me. It doesn't sound like Greg's. I know it's not mine.

I take a deep breath and turn around while reaching for my gun. A pale young man is on the other side of the bed. From the looks of things, he was hiding under the bed, and was just getting out from under it when his cell phone rang.

I see his eyes flick to my vest and back. His eyes widen and before I can say anything, he has a gun out and the sound of a shot being fired echoes around the room. I have my gun out now, and I fire a few shot of my own, clipping him in the right shoulder and hip.

I lean against the wall and watch him collapse in a pile of clothes on the floor, screaming louder than I would have thought possible. It can't hurt that badly. I close my eyes and cough into my hand. Warm liquid splatters onto it. I slide down the wall and cough again. My chest hurts.

I close my eyes and let the pain wash over me. Thank God. It doesn't feel good at all. It just hurts.

"Sara!"

Greg. He doesn't sound too good. He sounds worried. It doesn't suit him. Greggo's supposed to be cheerful.

_"Sara! Oh, God… no, no, no, no, no… Don't you dare die Dreamer! Don't you dare! C'mon sweetheart, stay with me! Sara, you've gotta stay with me!"_

Oh.

Fuck.


	20. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

AN: Well this took longer than it should have. It really sucks that the pills that are supposed to make me better make me depressed/sick as hell. Sorry, folks.

* * *

_"I really don't like hospitals."_

_"Well, you wouldn't be here if you hadn't tried to kill yourself."_

_"Amy, I'm sorry. Really, I am."_

_"No, you aren't."_

_"Ames-"_

_"You might be sorry for making me cry, but I doubt you're sorry for attempting suicide. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you were thinking of ways to finish the job right now. If you're going to apologize, apologize for the thing you're actually sorry for."_

_"… I'm sorry I put you through so much pain, Star."_

_"Apology accepted.…So, when are we busting out of here?"_

My chest hurts. A lot. Why does my chest hurt so badly? Damn it… what happened to me? I cough a little. The pain intensifies, but I don't think I coughed out any blood. That's always good. Too bad the pain's still there. What happened? I think… I remember leaving the lab with Greg… and then… I was in the master bedroom. I heard something. A cell phone? Not mine, not Greg's… a young man wearing a leather jacket and jeans. He looked around eighteen or nineteen… did Jim get him? He was in the house… he should be questioned. Wait… I shot him… he had a gun and I shot him… no… he shot me first.

So that's why my chest hurts. A bullet went through it. That makes sense. I guess I'm in a hospital then. Wonderful. Just great. I think I would have preferred dying. Much less pain then. Of course, given what I've done with my life, I'd probably end up suffering eternal damnation. I still wouldn't have Amy.

"Good. You're up."

A chill runs down my spine and my eyes fly open. I'd know that voice anywhere. I turn my head to the side and try to fight back a flinch. His size has always intimidated me just a little. Tall and muscular; just like Dad. My mind automatically starts creating a list of differences to reassure me. His hair is bleached. His skin is darker. His eyes are darker. He's never hit me.

"Zachary. What… what are you doing here?" My voice is raspy, and I don't think I can blame it on just waking up.

Zach shrugs. "I didn't have anything better to do so I decided to stay in your room and wait for you to wake up. After getting a good look at the hole in your chest, I was slightly concerned."

I smile a little. This is familiar. "So you helped patch me up?"

He shrugs again. "Yeah. I was working in the ER when they rushed you in. I figured that the sooner you were walking around, the sooner your cop friends would leave the hospital."

Zach really doesn't like cops. Actually, that's a bit of an understatement. He dislikes anyone even remotely related to law enforcement. He threw a fit when I told him I had gotten a job at the San Francisco Crime Lab. Apparently he had a problem with someone he occasionally associated with being 'tainted'. A month later he decided that I was a lost cause, therefore not worth yelling at.

"How bad was it?"

I don't think he notices his gaze drifting down to my wrist. We both know that if not for him, I'd have died several times over. The night Mom took her knife to my wrist, Zach got me to the hospital before the blood loss killed me. After that, whenever I got an injury that was worthy of his attention, he'd always stare at my wrist. It's oddly comforting to know that he still does.

"Bad enough to rank in your top ten. Amy would be thrilled to know that her lover is still endangering her life. You should've been the one to fire the first shot. The second the kid brandished a gun at you-"

"Is he all right?" Zachary won't appreciate the interruption. Oh well. The bastard shouldn't have mentioned Amy. He has no right to talk about her. He barely knew her. …And I am worried about the kid I shot. For all I know… No. The bullets just hit flesh. He was still screaming when I blacked out. He's probably fine.

Zach rolls his eyes and nods. "Pete Hanson. Seventeen years old and already addicted to several narcotics. Still, not a bad shot. He did manage to kill his mother pretty cleanly, and he almost got you. By the way- are you willing to speak to any of the frantic people outside your room?"

Frantic people? Damn it. I got shot at a crime scene. Greg. Maybe Catherine, too. I hope Catherine's there. I don't like the thought of her worrying over me, but her caring enough to worry… Actually, she's probably out there even if she doesn't care that much. She's a supervisor, and Grissom is still avoiding me. But… she's there.

"Uh… who's out there?"

"A blonde, a Texan, and a kid with a vest that says 'Sanders'. Oh yeah, and Riley and his kid got here an hour ago. From what I heard, Grissom and a Warrick Brown couldn't get away from a weasel. So. Are you willing to converse with any of them?"

Riley brought Jacob along with him? …Right. He probably didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Jacob is a stubborn piece of work, and given what their relationship's like at the moment… it wouldn't have taken much convincing to get his father to bring him along.

Catherine, Nick, and Greg. I'm not too surprised that Ecklie wouldn't let Warrick or Grissom leave work. Unfortunately, crime doesn't realize when it's an inconvenience. Of course, while that was probably Ecklie's argument, the main reason he didn't let them go was probably because he couldn't care less about me.

"Can I talk to Riley?"

* * *

"I told you things happen. Now, aren't you glad that we talked? Who knows what would have happened if I hadn't been listed as your next of kin." 

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Riley enjoys telling me 'I told you so' too much. He knows perfectly well that Zach would refuse to tell any of the graveyard CSIs who my next of kin was. Actually, he did refuse to tell them. He called Riley and completely ignored my colleagues. Figures.

Riley's been sitting in my room for ten minutes. He's only just started talking to me. I'm pretty sure he was spending the ten minutes telling himself that neither of us would benefit from him yelling. Amy would have just spent the ten minutes crushing my ribs. Then she would yell in between trying not to cry. She always got emotional whenever I was stuck in the hospital.

_"You're worth it."_

"You really scared me, you know? Me and Jacob. Do you have any idea- I was just leaving with him for school when Zach called. **Zach**, Sara. He calls to rant, and that's it. Whenever he calls and we actually talk, something's wrong. He just told me that I should get on the next plane to Vegas and rush to the hospital. I had no idea what was wrong. For all I knew, I'd be identifying a corpse when I got here."

I wince. Zachary isn't what you would call diplomatic. "Sorry, Riley."

He waves my apology aside and smiles lopsidedly. "It's Zach's fault. Jerk should have been more willing to explain what happened." He smiles again, and this time it meets his eyes. "He was worried, though. He still feels responsible for both of us, and if you died, that would mean that he failed."

I manage to smile just a little. Zachary showing any sort of emotion is considered a big deal. Every once in a while, it's nice to be reminded that he's human.

"So how're my co-workers handling everything?"

Riley shrugs, his eyes dimming. "It's a bit hard to tell. Mr. Stokes and Greg are just sort of staring at the wall. To be honest, I think Greg might still be in shock. He was the one at the scene with you, right?" I nod my affirmative. "Yeah. He acts like it. Catherine… God, Sar. She had better be the next one you let in here. She looks like hell, and I'm positive that she feels even worse."

Guilt starts forming a knot in my stomach. I guess she is worried about me. Damn it. I wanted her here for me, yeah, but I didn't really want her to worry. I didn't want to cause her any pain.

_"Sure. Blame yourself for getting shot."_

"It isn't your fault, Sara. No one could have predicted what happened. The only reason Catherine feels so terrible is that you were hurt and she wasn't there. She cares about you a lot."

I swallow around the lump in my throat. My eyes are suddenly feeling too moist for comfort. "Could I maybe, uh, talk to her now?" If she's feeling that horrible about everything, I want to be able to comfort her. Even if it means kicking my friend out of here.

But Riley just smiles and nods. He stands up and stretches. Several distinct cracks reach my ears, and I can't stop the shudder that runs through my body. Riley freezes and stares at me.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to remind- oh God, Sara. **Sorry**." He leans down and wraps his arms around me, a rare gesture for us. We aren't exactly the touchy-feely types. I return the hug, ignoring the jolts of pain shooting through my chest.

"I'll go get Catherine. She probably won't make such a mess of things. Damn it, Sara, I am so sorry." Riley lets go and stumbles a few feet back. Guilt is written all over his face. Aren't we a pair?

"It's fine, Riley. It wasn't your fault. I just over reacted. No big deal." I'm not going to tell him how, for a second, I was leaning against the Hansons' wall watching the life seep out of me; he doesn't need to know that.

He nods and quickly leaves the room. I think he's embarrassed. He probably feels like he couldn't even comfort a friend without messing up. He didn't mess up, though. There was no way for either of us to know that I'd react badly to his back cracking.

I sigh and let my head fall against the pillows. I'm so tired. I'll make sure Catherine's okay, and then I'll let Zach put whatever drugs he wants to into my system. That sounds like a brilliant plan.

The door opens again, and I'm momentarily stunned. Catherine walks in and all but collapses into the chair previously occupied by Riley. The look on her face… I thought Riley was exaggerating. She really does look horrible. That… that can't be just for me. Maybe… could something be wrong with Lindsey?

I don't ask. I know she'll bite my head off if I ask. She hates it when I make assumptions about her. I'll just… I'll let myself believe that I was the one that got her that worried. Not anyone else. It really shouldn't matter, but for some reason… it does. It just does.

I reach out a hand and wait for her to grab it. When she does, life returns to her eyes. She looks at me for a second, and before I know what's happening, her arms are around me and she's crying into my side. Her tears are breaking my heart, and I do the only thing I can think of. I untangle our hands and run mine through her hair in what I hope is a comforting motion.

We sit like that until Zach comes by to kick her out.


	21. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

AN: Chess isn't something I excel at. The game played in this chapter is something I borrowed. It isn't mine.

* * *

"Pawn to d4." 

I sigh and lean my head back on the pillow. He can't be serious. Wait… Zach. He's always serious. He honestly wants to play chess at one in the morning instead of letting me sleep. Why did he have to make himself my attending? I'm not delusional; I know he doesn't really give a damn about me. So why the hell is he doing this? He's told me countless times that I'm not worth annoying excessively.

"Knight to f6," I spit out. He could at least let me move my own pieces. 'You might tear your stitches'. Right. I was actually starting to fall asleep before he barged in here. Sometimes I really hate my non-friend.

"Sara, don't bother acting upset. When's the last time you've fallen asleep on a bed? At worst, I saved you from a night of pessimistic contemplation. Pawn to c4."

_"The bastard has a point."_

Why couldn't Catherine have been the one to disturb my thoughts at one in the morning? At least she cares about me. She would have been a welcome disturbance. She would've just sat with me until I managed to fall asleep. She wouldn't want to play chess; she wouldn't ask me dozens of questions to make sure that I was all right… she would just be there. Even Amy would have-

Wait- what? …Amy would have talked to me… she would have gotten me to enjoy talking back… I-I liked it when she got be to open up. Why…?

"Just concentrate on the game, Sidle."

"Pawn to e6." I got shot. Catherine stayed with me for hours. Of course I want the comfort she gave me back. I love Amy, but right now she can't make me feel better. Just because I wish Catherine were here… It's no big deal. It doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything.

"So what was with you letting that blonde woman stay in your room for hours on end? Knight to c3."

Of course he wants to talk. He could hijack some first-year med student wandering the halls if he just wanted to play chess. Just because chess is our thing- God. We aren't even friends, and we have our own 'thing'. Why can't I just have a normal relationship with another human being? Would that be so horrible? Even Amy and I didn't really have what one could call a 'normal' relationship.

"Riley said that she looked like hell, so I saw her after him to make sure she was okay. We just sort of lost track of time after that. I probably should have seen Greg, too, but you made sure that 'end of visiting hours' meant 'end of visiting'. Bishop to b4."

Zach opens his mouth, and judging by the way he snaps it shut again, he just decided against making a cutting remark. Not that whatever he says instead will be any better, but at least he's showing signs of some restraint. That's something.

"You're an idiot. You know why she was so upset? Pawn to e3."

_"I thought he hated stating the obvious."_

I hate it when says I'm an idiot. He says it a lot, and it's always painful to hear. You would think that I would've gotten used to it by now. I haven't, though. Still a receptive target for the jerk.

"How am I an idiot? Pawn to c5."

Zach gives me a pitying look and shakes his head before moving his bishop. "I could tell you, but then you would panic. And as removed from your life as I am, I would never deliberately ruin a chance for you to be happy. So I won't tell you. Bishop to d3."

Why did he even bothering mentioning it, then? I really should just give up on trying to understand him.

"Pawn to d4."

Zach moves my pawn and removes his from the board. "The police are going to want your statement soon. Pawn to d4."

I've avoided thinking about getting shot until now. At least, I've avoided thinking about the specifics. It's been impossible to not think about it. I hate hospitals. The searing pain in my chest is preventing me from leaving. The searing pain was caused by a bullet shot from a gun.

"I'll deal with them when I have to. Pawn to d5."

"Pawn to d5."

"Knight to d5."

Zach looks up and does his impression of smiling. "Where are you going to stay after you're released from the hospital? Amy's obviously not available; Riley lives in California; you don't trust your colleagues enough to let one of them take care of you. Well, maybe you do, but you wouldn't want them seeing the state you're in. Knight to e2."

I haven't given it much thought, honestly. I can take care of myself. Besides, by the time Zach's willing to let me out of the hospital, I'll probably be cured. "I can take care of my self, Zach. Knight to c6."

"No you can't. Look at what's happened to you without Amy monitoring your every action. Short castle."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose. He's trying to annoy me. He's doing an excellent job. There's really no point telling him that he crossed a line; he'd disregard my words and throw restraint out the window.

"Go to hell, Zachary. Short castle."

Zach rolls his eyes and taps the board. "Wow. That wounded me. Really. Grow up. Bishop to e4."

I hope Riley decided to stay at my apartment with Jacob. He should know by now that I don't mind him being there when I'm not, but he's still Riley. He has plenty of justifications for staying at a hotel instead. His favorite is that he doesn't want to disturb anything in my living space. But he cares a lot about Jacob, and might be willing to interfere with my living space if it will make his son more comfortable.

"Bishop to d6."

Zach sits quietly for a few minutes, completely ignoring the board. Then he tilts his head and moves his queen, still staring into space. "You could stay with me. Queen to d3."

I'm not going to stay with him. He knows me better than anyone else alive, and he likes to use that knowledge as a weapon. Grissom's probably going to force me to take at least a month off of work. There is no way I can deal with Zach for a month. I don't think any sane person could.

_"And you're just the personification of sanity."_

"No, I couldn't. I'd go crazy. Knight to f6."

He raises an eyebrow and smirks. "From what I've seen, you already are crazy. I wonder… it's been thirteen months and twenty some days, right? Huh… I suppose you can't be completely insane yet. You're still doing your job. Making mistakes like letting seventeen- year-old brats shoot you, but you managed to connect the dots and shoot back. Bishop to f3."

My fists clench and I fight back the desire to take a swing at him. He's too far away. I really would tear my stitches. I am more than capable of moving chess pieces no matter what Zach says, but punching someone would probably cause some damage. The last thing I need is to give him more reasons to keep me in the hospital.

"Crazy or not, I'm not staying with you. It wouldn't be emotionally healthy. Pawn to e5."

Zach rolls his eyes and sighs. "So I use what I know about you to annoy you; so what? The only person who knew you better than me was Amy, and she's no longer alive. There are some definite positives to staying with me, even if you won't acknowledge them. Pawn to d5."

He does know me. He misuses his knowledge, but it's still comforting that he's so aware of me. He's a doctor. My attending. If I stayed with him, he wouldn't make me go to the hospital for a follow-up appointment. He'd just examine me at his house. But he'd also talk to me. In another year, that might be therapeutic. Right now, there's no way I can handle it.

"I'm not staying with you. Knight to e7."

Zach grins and moves my knight. "I think you'll find that your recovery gets a jumpstart if you do. Knight to g3."

I'm not dignifying that with a response. "Knight to e8."

"Poor Sidle. Has to stay cooped up in a hospital for the rest of her life. Knight to b5."

We both know he can't do something like that, but I snap at him anyway. "Why do you want me to stay with you anyway? Are you that hard up for entertainment? Pawn to f5."

"I can't just want to keep a weather eye on your recovery? Anyway, you aren't **that** entertaining, Sara. It's just that it's been over a year, and even re-runs are acceptable after such a length of time. Queen to b3."

He has got to be the only person I know who enjoys having the same argument over and over again. Well, he doesn't enjoy repeating the argument we had over my job, but that's the only exception. It doesn't matter that it's been over a year, really. It could have been only a week, and he'd still get a kick out of it.

"Knight to g6."

"Half of however long you'll be on paid leave? I'd let you invite your cop friends over. You could talk to Ms. Willows about spending the second half with her. Bishop to d2."

I blush at the thought of asking Catherine if I could spend half a month with her. She went on her first date with some guy not so long ago. I wouldn't want to bother her. Or Lindsey. Or interfere with the time she would've spent with Lindsey. It really isn't an option. Especially if I spend any length of time with Zach beforehand. I'd be insufferable.

"Draw. Could you get out of my hospital room now?"

Zach sighs and wipes the chess pieces into a plastic bag. "Fine. I'll even be nice and put you to sleep. But the conversation's not over, Sara. I really do want you to stay with me until you're healthy. I'm bored."

I close my eyes and sigh. "Good night, Zachary."


	22. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: Well, I was losing badly at Pokemon, so I decided I might as well do something productive. Yay.

* * *

_"I want a dog."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Uh huh. Unfortunately, my mom doesn't want one. She says that with all of the after school stuff I've signed up for, she'll be the one raising it."_

_"…Let me guess; you're about to beg me for help."_

_"Bingo. If you agreed to watch the dog after school, Mom would be willing to let me have one. So… will my bestest friend in the whole wide world help me out?"_

_"…Can I help you pick out the dog?"_

"Hey. You've got visitors. Wake up."

I keep my eyes closed. I don't want to face the blank hospital walls just yet. Amy's bedroom walls crackled with energy. She was constantly changing the posters pinned to them to match her mood. Several times, she asked me for help with adjusting the placement of glowing stars on her ceiling.

I still remember that Australian Shepherd pup we got at the pet store. Star named him Teague. Every day after school, I would go over to Mrs. Archer's house and run into the backyard. Teague would always jump up and grab his nearest toy when he saw me. Two hours later, Amy would enter the backyard and laugh at the exhausted heap of puppy and human in the middle of the grass.

Teague died when he was thirteen years old. Ninety-one in dog years. Afterwards, I held Amy in my arms as we both sobbed our eyes out. He had been such a good dog. That day was the first time I felt something more than friendly towards Amy. It was only for a second, but it was still the very first time, and it was special.

_"Very special."_

Star never got another dog. A few days after her… death, I found myself wishing she had. Just so I would have something soft and furry to hold on to. The thought still pops up occasionally, but then I think of Teague and realize that there is no way I want to go through mourning a pet again. Especially not alone.

"I know you're awake, Sara. Seriously. That Sanders guy is outside your room looking desperate, and you know that I don't like cops."

Greg. I need to make sure he's all right. He's probably blaming himself for what happened. It isn't his fault. The officer who cleared the scene should have made sure it was actually clear. I would have talked to Greg yesterday, but the look on Catherine's face pushed everything else to the back of mind. I never want to see her looking like that again. Ever.

"You haven't invited him in yet?"

I open my eyes to see Zach looking bored out of his mind. And he's glaring at the door. I guess Greg is pacing outside it. You would think having a patient with a hole in her chest would cheer him up. Of course, he seems to think that I'm more entertaining conscious, so maybe that's what's wrong.

"You haven't told me if you're willing to have your visitor in here. Riley and Jacob are here too, by the way, but they don't look nearly so upset."

"Let him in, Zach."

He mock-salutes and gets out of his chair. He swings the door open and leaves it open. A few seconds later, Greg walks in. Relief flashes across his face when he sees my eyes open and alert. He grins shakily at me and nods towards the door.

"So, uh, how're you doing with Dr. Grouchy?"

I smile at Zach's new nickname. Hopefully, Greg will have the good sense not to use it around Zach. My non-friend can snap for seemingly no reason. Having a member of law enforcement call him 'Dr. Grouchy' is a reason. I really don't want to have to pull Greg's head out of one of the boring white walls. I might be able to get away with using it, though.

Greg sits down in the chair and twiddles his thumbs nervously. After a minute or so, he looks up. "I'm sorry. It's all my fault you got shot. I should have-"

I stop him before he says something I need to yell at him for. "Greg, it isn't your fault. The officer should have done a better job clearing the scene. There is no way you could have known that Pete Hanson was going to be in that bedroom with a loaded gun. It isn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done."

Greg nods, but he still looks a little guilty. "I just feel like I should have done something. I mean, I was less than fifteen yards away when you got shot. I-I heard the kid screaming and all I could think was 'God, I hope Sara's okay'. Less than fifteen yards away, and I couldn't do a damn thing to help."

I can only imagine what that felt like. I shiver slightly at the thought of Amy in pain, and me unable to help. **That**, I felt. And for the little time afterward that I was aware of myself, the pain was unbearable.

_"It wasn't your fault."_

"Greg, even if you blame yourself for what happened, I won't. There's really no point feeling guilty. It wasn't your fault."

He nods again, looking slightly less guilty. I sigh and prop myself up against the pillows on the hospital bed.

"How're things around the lab?"

* * *

After half an hour of talking, Greg started to fall asleep in his chair. I told him to go home and get some rest. From the looks of him, he hasn't slept at all since I got shot. Probably out of guilt. Hopefully he'll be able to sleep now. It hurts to see my favorite ex-lab rat so exhausted. Besides complaining about Zach, he hardly joked around at all. At least he has a few days off. He should be able to get rid of the last of his guilt before he gets back to work.

I sigh and relax further into the pillows. I really want to get out of here. I'm too used to sleeping on a couch to enjoy the soft hospital bed, and the smell and the walls are bringing back all sorts of uncomfortable memories. I can barely handle it when work forces me to visit a hospital.

I know Zach would let me out early if I agreed to stay with him. I'm ashamed to admit how tempting his offer is. Spending a few weeks with Zach would leave me feeling worse than I already do. He's good at getting under my skin, and he doesn't mind hurting my feelings at all. He might apologize if he says something really outrageous, but that's mostly because he feels that such statements are unworthy of him. I don't think he actually cares about any emotional damage he inflicts.

"You're up!"

I turn to look at the door. My heart skips a beat when I see a mini-Riley peering around it. Jacob. He looks way too much like Riley. His rusty curls bounce as he skips over to my bed. He looks happy to see me, God knows why. I've spent the last year or so avoiding him. He has every right to be furious with me. But he looks happy. Instead of trying to figure it out, I pat the bed, silently telling him that he's welcome to sit there.

He jumps up on the bed and hugs me carefully. My chest hurts for a moment, but when I relax and hug him back, the pain subsides. Jacob leans back and stares at me with wide eyes. The expression is one I always associate with him, and not Riley. He's worried about something.

"Did it hurt a lot?"

Concerned, then. According to Grissom, there's a difference. I smile reassuringly at the boy. "Yeah, it did, but thanks to Zach I'm a lot better." It hurts to say that, but it's still true. If not for Zach, I'd be in a lot more pain.

Jacob smiles brightly and wraps his arms around my neck. "Dad doesn't like Zach at all. You should tell him that Zach helped you, so he should be nicer."

I roll my eyes. Riley and Zach will never get along. My relationship with him isn't much better, but our arguments are more organized than his and Riley's. Zach and I are non-friends. He and Riley are non-enemies. If Jacob thinks he can get his father to act friendly towards Zach, he's crazy.

"No one really likes Zach. They just put up with him. He and your dad are never really going to get along."

Jacob sighs despairingly and throws his wrist over his forehead. "So I have to put up with Dad constantly going to the vending machine just so that he doesn't have to deal with your doctor? If he actually bought me something instead of getting all that gum…"

"Is that where he is now?"

He nods. "Yeah. He'll probably come in here when he realizes I'm not out there anymore. I only knew to come in here because I saw Mr. Sanders come out. He looks a lot better. Before he looked really pale and kept on pacing."

I smile at Jacob's description of Greg. It's funny to hear someone call him 'Mr. Sanders'. And it's good to know that someone else thinks he's looking better. A small part of me wondered if I was just hoping that he wasn't feeling as guilty. It's nice to know that it wasn't just me.

Jacob starts chatting happily at me, not really giving me a chance to talk back. I just lean back and listen, trying not to think that it's weird to hear so much happiness in Riley's voice. He looks and sounds exactly like his father. His attitude is the only thing that's even slightly different. It's disturbing.

_"It's cute."_

* * *

"You look upset. Wait- sorry. Disappointed. Why?"

I ignore Zach's attempts to start a conversation. I don't feel like talking to him right now. I spent the entire day with Jacob and Riley, and he just kicked them out. At least he hasn't confiscated the textbooks Riley brought me. I'm sort of surprised. I would think that he would have fun justifying that. And it would annoy Riley.

"Could it have anything to do with that blonde not visiting?"

My wrist twitches uncomfortably. He's right. Catherine hasn't been here all day. He's wrong about me being disappointed, though. It's to be expected. She has a daughter and a job. Both matter far more to her than me. Of course she didn't come by. Now that she knows I'm all right, she has no reason to.

_"Don't be dense; it doesn't suit."_

"Good God, you're impossible. Sara, I'm not putting you to sleep until we have some kind of conversation. It's simple- respond monosyllabically to my questions, and I won't wake you up at one in the morning for chess. See? Simple."

I really, really hate him. He isn't being fair. If I don't talk to him, he'll wake me up in the middle of the night and demand that I play chess with him. If I do talk to him, I'll probably end up annoyed as hell. "Fine."

"Great." Zach leans against the wall with a satisfied smirk on his face. "So, have you given my suggestion any thought? I really wouldn't mind having a houseguest for a few weeks."

Yes, he would. He doesn't want a houseguest, he wants someone to argue with. He's bored out of his mind and wants entertainment. And I've still thought about agreeing to stay with him. I can't really ask Riley to take any more time off from his job, I wouldn't be comfortable staying with one of the guys, and I won't make Catherine's life any more difficult than it has to be.

Also… despite everything, it is comforting to have Zachary around. "I don't want to stay with you. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

_"Not right now you aren't." _

Zach rolls his eyes. "Right. Of course you are. Look, Sara, if you stay at your apartment, I'm going to be harassing you day and night. Make this easier for both of us; agree to stay at my house. Why is this so difficult?"

"I'll consider it, Zach, but I really don't think it's a good idea."

That's true enough. It isn't a good idea. I don't know why he's being so insistent.

Zach crosses his arms and sighs. "Well, that's a slight improvement. Fine. Enjoy a full night of drug-induced sleep."

I close my eyes and wait for the sound of the door shutting. His first comment is still annoying me. I think… he might have been right. I was disappointed.

I really wanted to see Catherine today.


	23. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: Let's try this again... last time half of this got cut. Once again, sorry for the horrible chapter. I'm nowhere near approaching my best at the moment.

* * *

_"You didn't call me today."_

_"Sorry. Grissom refused to let me out of his sight for five seconds."_

_"…Sara, what's wrong?"_

_"I'm fine."_

_"No, you're not. If you really were, you would say 'nothing's wrong'. You didn't. Given your response, I'd say that you're trying not to lie to me."_

_"You're annoying."_

_"Please. I'm inconveniently observant. C'mon, Dreamer. Talk to me. What's going on?"_

_"Could you just… could you just hold me? I don't want to- I can't- all shift… all I wanted to do was fall into your arms and cry."_

_"C'mere, sweetheart."_

_"Thank you."_

_"You don't have to thank me, Sara. I love you, and I love that you feel safe enough to let your guard down around me."_

For some reason, Amy always looked at me in awe whenever I asked her take me in her arms. She would stare at me blankly for a few moments before wrapping her arms around me and letting me cry. I don't know why she appreciated it so much. Almost thirty years of friendship, and she still swore that she fell deeper in love with me every time I asked for comfort. I never managed to ask her why. Now I never will.

"Your friend's here."

I open my eyes, expecting to be blinded by the glare of the walls. It's dark, though. I can barely see Zach leaning against the door. Why did he wake me up? There is no way he would even consider allowing me to have visitors at this time of night. He's probably going to harass me, then. Perfect. I thought he was going to stop doing that. Well, I thought I'd get a full night's sleep, at least. Inconsiderate-

"I'll let her in. She looks like she needs someone to talk to."

-What the hell? I push myself up using my arms, trying desperately to ignore the shooting pain going through my chest. Shooting… oh, that's cute Sidle. You know, 'cause you were **shot** and everything. Hilarious. I let out a harsh chuckle and fall against the pillows. I'm guessing Catherine's here. She's a member of law enforcement. Why the hell is Zach considering her feelings?

A shiver of joy runs through me when it sinks in that Catherine's here to see me. All day, I was hoping that she would, and she didn't. And now she's here. Despite the pain that's doing cartwheels in my chest, I feel myself smile. I can't believe she actually dropped by to see me.

_"You're more than worth the effort."_

"Visiting hours are over, aren't they?" I want to see Catherine with all my heart, but I don't really understand why Zach would let me.

Zach looks at his wrist and tilts his head to one side. "Huh. Is that right? Well, my watch says they aren't. You have half an hour left."

I know he doesn't wear a watch. I wonder if he's trying to get on my good side for some reason. The only reason I can think of is that he wants me to spend my recovery period at his house, and I really can't understand why he wants that. I should just give up trying to understand him. Riley has.

"Hey, Sara."

I jerk my head up at the soft voice and smile. Catherine. She really did come. The pain in my chest subsides slightly, only to be replaced by an unbearably happy sensation. She smiles back, making her way towards my bed.

"How are you feeling?"

I have no idea. Zach's must have drugged me before he woke me up. I can't think of a single explanation for feeling this good. It's a bit annoying, actually. I'd like to be able to figure out why I'm so energized all of then sudden.

"Okay. What are you doing here?"

She sits down in the chair and sighs. "Grissom gave me the day off to spend with Lindsey. I wanted to be here earlier, but I fell asleep during some movie we were watching. Your doctor was kind enough to let me see you."

I smile at the bitterness laced through her last few words. She doesn't like Zach either. If he cared at all about human companionship, I might feel a bit sorry for him. "That doesn't sound like him."

She crosses her arms and leans back in the chair. "Yeah, he's a complete jerk."

I can't help it. I start laughing. Somehow, the disdain in her voice is a thousand times better than Greg calling Zach 'Dr. Grouchy'. My chest hurts like hell, but it's worth it. I feel lighter than I have in months.

_"Thank God."_

"He's actually someone I know. A non-friend. You're right, he is a jerk."

I move my head to look at her. I expect to see her smiling, but she isn't. Instead, a stunned expression masks her face. I sit up hurriedly. "Catherine? Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

She lets out a shaky breath and looks directly into my eyes. The compassion I see there scares me, but I don't tear my gaze away. I really want to know what's wrong with her. The look on her face a few moments ago… that was harder to bear.

"It's been so long since I've heard you laugh."

Her words make me freeze. She's right. I haven't laughed… I haven't laughed since Star was killed. It's been over a year. And I just… Catherine just made me laugh. Not really because what she said was funny, but because her presence was making me so happy. The way she said it… her tone of voice was cute. It made me laugh. **She** made me laugh.

"Look… Sara, you're going to need a place to stay once you're out of here, right?"

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"You'd be more than welcome to stay with me."

I swallow around the sudden lump in my throat. She's looking at me with an intense expression on her face. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be sitting here with her staring at me like that. It- that's Amy's, **damn it**. Ours. Not- that was ours.

"Uh, Zach already offered. I'm going to be staying with him."

_"You fucking **idiot**!"_

* * *

"Why are you upset with me? I thought you wanted me to stay with you." 

Zach's driving me to his house. Since he's my attending, he didn't see much point in me staying at the hospital when the environment was just making me irritable. There are many pluses to staying with him. At the moment, the most obvious is that I won't be staying with Catherine.

A disturbing tingle runs down my spine. I hurt her when I said I was staying with Zach. Or maybe it was the way that I said it that hurt her. I was rather abrupt. It was just- I was seeing things. I was imagining something that terrified me. That's not unusual, but this was just a little too much. I thought, for just a second, that I might-

It doesn't matter. I love Amy. I'm staying with Zach for a few weeks. Catherine can come over any time she wants. Zach made sure she knew that- God knows why. …But I hurt her. So everything's not okay. I don't really know how to acknowledge that I hurt her, though. She was obviously trying to play it off like it was nothing.

"I'm not- look, I wanted you to stay with me, yes. I didn't want you to decide to stay with me because your emotions went haywire for a minute. You're an idiot, by the way. You should have at least said that I was all but forcing you to stay with me."

I used him. I used him like I used Grissom. I panicked, and I latched on to the closest thing available. In this case it was Zach. And he knows it. No wonder he's not happy with me. I'm surprised he hasn't started yelling. I suppose it's because he got what he wanted.

I lower my head and stare at a stray thread coming out of my jacket. Zach got some stuff out of my apartment for me. Not that I had given him permission. I told him that he didn't have the right to break into my house. Of course, he said that he didn't break in; he had a key. He copied my key while I was unconscious, after all.

He's a jerk, but he doesn't deserve to be used.

"I'm sorry."

He sighs and spares me a glance before turning back to the road. "I know. Try not to do it again, okay? I know you're nuts; having evidence of that is not needed."

I roll my eyes and stare out the window. We should be getting to his house soon. I'm actually looking forward to the end of this car trip, to be honest. Spending time in a confined space with Zachary Quartz isn't the most comfortable thing in the world.

I close my eyes and sigh. This is annoying.

I open them again when I feel the car slowing down. Good. We must be on his street. A few seconds later, the car stops, and Zach orders me out of his car. He tosses me his house key and tells me to let myself in. He's getting my stuff since he's my doctor and doesn't want me aggravating my injury.

I walk through the door and gasp.

Zach has money- I know that. I just… didn't expect… I didn't think he would spend all that much on someplace that he visits maybe three times a week for sleeping. What's more, he obviously spent a great deal of time arranging all of his expensive things. I walk into the living room and shake my head at the cushy couches. Why did he bother spending so much money on a house?

Something catches my eye as I glance over at the stairway. The mantel has pictures on it. I walk over to it, carefully avoiding the rug on the floor. It doesn't look like it's ever been stepped on.

Reaching the fireplace, I freeze. I recognize the picture. I have the same one in my favorite photo album. Zach's good with pictures. I asked if he would develop the film from that trip. I didn't think he would keep any copies.

My hand reaches out to touch it. It's shaking. I pick the picture up and feel tears starting to form.

A few years ago, shortly after we became lovers, Star and I went back to California for a Giants' baseball game. We took lots of pictures. This one was by far my favorite. Our favorite. Amy loved it too.

We're both in it. I have my arms around Amy, protecting her from the cold breeze. She's leaning into me, crimson hair slightly astray. She kept her eyes on the camera. She's looking straight at me- the present me. My cheek's resting against her hair. I'm paying just enough attention to the camera… I can see the exhilaration in my eyes. The absolute joy I felt whenever she was near.

"Sara?"

I almost drop the picture when Zach taps me on the shoulder. His eyes are also on the photograph. He sighs and takes it gently out of my hands. Placing it back up on the mantel, he looks around his house.

"It's funny how things work out. My parents kick me out at eighteen, and then, after I nearly starve to death on the streets, they get themselves killed and I get more money than I ever needed. I'm amazed they thought to mention me in their will."

I nod slowly. That explains the extravagance. He had no idea what to spend his parents' fortune on, so he spent it on a place to live. Something reasonable. I can't help but let my eyes wander back to the picture. Why does he have it?

"Why did you keep a copy?"

Zach's gaze shifts to the floor. I shake my head and make my way towards the stairs. I don't want to know. It doesn't matter. I pick up the duffel bag he packed for me and march up. I didn't need to see her smiling face.

Halfway up, I trip. I close my eyes and wait for the painful 'thump'. It doesn't come. Instead, I feel Zach keeping me on my feet. I look up at him and glare. I don't need his help. I'm here because I went temporarily insane. That's all.

"I'll take care of you, Sara. I promise."

The words make my glare falter for a moment. Then, it's back in full force.

"You don't make promises."

"You're right. I don't."

He helps me up the stairs and throws my stuff into the room I'll be staying in for the next few weeks. There's a chessboard by the nightstand. I shake my head and move towards the bed.

Temporary insanity. That's the only reason I'm here.


	24. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI.

AN: Let the fun begin! Oh yeah- last chapter got chopped to pieces for some reason. The first time I posted it, half got chopped off. Fixed now. ...I think.

* * *

I walk back downstairs slowly. I've spent the last hour leaning against the door of the room I'll be staying in. Thankfully, Zach was willing to leave me alone for that long. We both know that I don't really want to be here. That's bothering him for some reason. I understand that he doesn't want to be used, but that's about all I understand. Zach's more complicated than me and Riley put together.

This is better than being in a hospital. If I had been forced to stay in that room for one more day… at least I had Riley and Jacob to talk to. And the guys would drop in for a minute or two when they were over collecting evidence from a victim. And… Catherine was there.

An uncomfortable jolt goes through my veins, and I close my eyes. I don't want to think about her. I miss her and I wish that I had taken her up on her offer to stay with her, but I don't want to think about her. At all. Every time I do, my chest aches and my breathing speeds up. That shouldn't happen thinking about Catherine.

_"Says who?"_

I shake my head and step onto the floor. The carpet feels nice against my bare feet. Zach knew what he was doing when he put it in. I look around at the downstairs again, carefully ignoring the frame on the mantel. If Zach wasn't around, I'd probably enjoy spending a few weeks in this house.

"In the future, don't stall on the stairs. If you collapse on them, you could end up even more damaged than you are already."

Zach's standing in front of me with a tray. Eggs, orange juice, and some toast. Breakfast. I wasn't forced to stay at the hospital long enough to eat. I guess he felt it was his duty to make sure that I ate something. He's still my doctor, after all. I walk over to the couch in the living room and sit down. He follows, dumping the tray unceremoniously on the coffee table.

"We need to talk."

I nod halfheartedly. We have a lot of catching up to deal with. Which means we'll probably be yelling at each other within ten minutes. I wonder what he'll pick first? …If he says anything about Amy, I'm punching him. I don't care if I tear my stitches in the process. I pick up a piece of toast and start nibbling on it. I'm not really hungry, but at least this way I can say that I'm not avoiding his eyes- I'm just eating.

"Yeah. For the next few weeks, you will be staying in my house. I have some rules. Under no circumstance will you break any of them. Understand?"

Fuck. I knew I'd have a few issues with staying here, but I never thought this would be one of them. Zach will make sure I follow whatever rules he deems necessary. We both know I won't risk breaking any unless they're completely ridiculous. He's extremely talented when it comes to noticing when someone's doing something behind his back.

"Fine."

He nods stiffly and leans back in the cushiony chair he's chosen for a seat. "No interruptions. Just pay attention and keep your mouth shut. You can wait a minute or so before complaining. If we start yelling, I'll never get them all out."

I roll my eyes and choke down the rest of the toast. If he thinks I'm going to object, odds are I will.

"First of all, you will be sleeping on the bed in your room. Not the couch. Normal human beings sleep on beds. If that's a problem, tough. Eventually you'll pass out from exhaustion. No sleeping pills whatsoever to help you along. The pain meds will be the only drugs you'll be anywhere near while you're staying with me. If the pain is too much for you to handle, tell me. I will prescribe you a different pain med. Do not take random medication, even if it's over the counter stuff."

He pauses, and I know he's observing me. Checking for any obvious signs of stress. The tension in my shoulders definitely counts. He can't be serious. Does he even realize what he's asking? I fell asleep on the hospital bed because I was drugged. Besides that, I've been sleeping on my couch. And even then I take sleeping pills. I should have told Catherine that I'd love to stay with her.

_"Yes, you should've."_

"You will eat three meals a day. Not random snacks whenever you're not concentrating on something. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Preferably in the morning, early afternoon, and evening. I realize that your schedule is screwy because of your job, but you won't be working for at least a month- you were shot. By the way- sooner or later you're going to have to give your statement to the police. Anyway, you are going to have some sort of reasonable eating schedule. And no meal will contain coffee. One sensible thing about Riley- he hates the stuff."

I raise my eyes to his and don't see a single ounce of mischief. He's dead serious. I really hate him. He's taking advantage of the situation. Admittedly, none of his rules would cause trouble if I didn't have so many issues. He's telling me that I'm going to be acting like a sane person. He's the one who said I was crazy.

"I'm not going to let you anywhere near any of my knives- decorative or otherwise. No point in tempting you. Breaking one of the most important promises you've ever made would completely shatter you. No one will be there to pick up the pieces. Even if Cat- someone tries, you won't think you'll deserve being put back together."

He pauses again, and for a second I think he's trying to compose himself. But for him to be doing that, he'd have to have lost his composure. The only time that's happened was… I remember the furious expression on his face when he saw my all but amputated hand. I was so afraid that he'd find Mom and kill her. I think he would have if I wasn't in such a critical condition. He was so angry.

_"Hard to believe he let you go back to those people."_

As much as I hate to admit it, he has a point about the knives. He knows how bad our arguments can get. He knows my weak points, and he knows exactly how to exploit them. Letting me near sharp objects after one of our fights could cause some serious problems. Amy would usually find me with a knife in hand after fighting with Zach. She would always take the knife away and take me in her arms, making the pain melt away.

"Sara."

His sharp voice shakes me out of my reverie. I look up and realize that he's much closer than he was a few seconds ago. He's kneeling in front of the coffee table, glaring at me. I place the fork I'm clutching back on the tray and meet his eyes shakily. He smiles, softening his usually harsh exterior.

"I promised to take care of you. I don't make promises- the thought of accidentally breaking such an extreme commitment makes me sick. You are a- the closest thing I have to a friend. I don't really care if my guidelines annoy you as long as you follow them. That pathetic vacant expression is starting to get on my nerves."

I drop my gaze and sigh. He's trying to help. Well that's just perfect. How am I supposed to yell at him if he's trying to help?

"Right."

Zach shakes his head and stands up. "Catherine's coming by pretty soon. I don't mind if you go and stay with her in a few weeks, but for now, you're staying here. I want to be able to keep an eye on you. And please try not to lose your head around her again. I think you hurt her feelings."

As if I really needed a reminder of that. I know I hurt her. I didn't want to, but I didn't really have a choice. I just couldn't be close to her right then. I don't know why, I just couldn't. I… felt too much. It was uncomfortable. Hopefully that won't be the case when we see each other today.

The doorbell rings, and my head jerks in the direction of the door. Catherine's here. Zach wasn't kidding when he said that she was coming by pretty soon. Great. I stand up and walk towards the door. My legs feel a bit numb. Stupid medication. Maybe Zach could prescribe me something else.

I open the door and smile when I see Catherine standing there. She looks a bit nervous. She doesn't look hurt anymore, though, which is a relief. I can't believe I told her I was staying with Zach. I really don't know why my emotions when so crazy. I'm not sure I want to know, either.

"Hey, Cath. Come in."

I wonder what Zach would say if he knew I was inviting someone into his house? It isn't really crossing the line- she's here to see me- but I would understand if he had a problem with it. Especially since she's a member of law enforcement. I can't believe he's actually willing to have her and the guys over if I want. He put up more of a fuss over Riley. Meaning he crossed his arms and glared instead of just sighing despairingly.

"Hey. Dr. Quartz here?"

I nod and shut the door behind her as she walks in. She takes a long look around, taking note of everything. She lets out a low whistle. I guess she's impressed. Even complete jerks can have style.

I flash back to my earlier conversation with Zach and flinch. Not a complete jerk, then.

"Do you want something to drink?"

Catherine nods absently; she's still admiring the living room. I don't bother asking what she wants, I just walk into the kitchen and open the refrigerator. I take a quick look around. Soda and milk. That's pretty much it. I pick up a plastic pitcher from the back and open it. Cherry Kool-Aid. I grin. Catherine was drinking that with Lindsey in the break room one day. She enjoyed it immensely if the expression on her face was anything to go by. Perfect.

I go ahead and grab two glasses, pouring some for each of us. I don't think this counts as any sort of meal, so Zach shouldn't have a problem with it. Not that he pays any attention to what he should and should not do.

I walk back into the living room and set down the Kool-Aid on the coffee table. I blush when I realize I have yet to clean up the breakfast Zach prepared for me. Thankfully, Catherine hasn't commented on it yet. She'll probably tease me when she comes to get her glass. I look up to determine where she is in the room. My heart stops when I see her by the fireplace.

_"…Wonderful."_

She's holding the picture. I swallow around the newly formed lump in my throat. Why the hell does Zach have to have a copy of that picture on display? I feel my nails cutting into my palms, and I try to relax my fists. It doesn't help. Black dots start blurring my vision, and I remind myself that I need to breathe. Why does she have to be holding that picture?

She must have heard me, since she turns around and looks straight at me. I keep staring at the picture in her hands. I can't look away. No one at work knows about Amy. Now Catherine… well, at the very least, she has to know that I've had a female lover. That shouldn't bother her… she's had girlfriends. How the hell do I explain this?

I walk forward and take the picture from her, placing it back on the mantel. Deciding to ignore Cath for now, I head back to the couch and take a sip of Kool-Aid. After a few moments, I feel the couch dip. I glance at Catherine and sigh. I don't really know what to make of her expression. She looks… drained, I guess.

"How are you feeling?"

I blink. I wasn't expecting that. Is she letting me off the hook?

"Better. A bit unsteady on my feet, but that's pretty much it. As far as pain goes… I've had worse."

Her eyes shine with concern, and my heart skips a beat. "Not much worse, I hope."

I shake my head and take another sip of Kool-Aid.

"How's Lindsey?"

* * *

After an hour of awkward small talk, Catherine starts yawning. She's exhausted, even if she won't admit it. I help her off of the couch and drag her over to the front door despite her complaints.

"Catherine, you're barely keeping your eyes open. Zach isn't going to be very happy if you fall asleep on his couch."

She rolls her eyes and starts to make a smart remark, but she cuts herself off with a yawn. Grinning sheepishly, she untangles her arm from mine. The loss of warmth is apparent immediately. I shiver from the sudden cold.

_"It's eleven in the morning in Vegas."_

Saying our goodbyes, I realize just how badly I want her to stay. As awkward as talking to her was this morning, it was still nice. We went through the entire pitcher of Kool-Aid, though, and I don't think Zach will appreciate that much.

"So, uh…"

She smiles at me, and I can't help smiling back. "I'll come by again tomorrow if work doesn't interfere. It was nice talking to you." I'm imaging the way her eyes dart over to where the picture is. I know I am.

I nod blankly, not really sure what else to say- if I should say anything. I stare at her for a moment, horribly conscious of the way she's staring back. I bite my lip for a moment or two. I can feel the blood rushing in my ears. What the hell.

I lean forward and kiss her cheek gently.

"See you tomorrow, then."

She smiles and returns the sentiment before heading out to her car. I close the door and lean my forehead against it. I feel giddy. My heart is racing, my breathing has sped up, and I'm positive my cheeks are flushed. What's wrong with me? The last time I felt this way-

Oh, God.

This- this **can't** be happening.

I can't be feeling this way.

Not about- no one should be making me feel this way. I- I love Amy. With all my heart, I love her. She- she was my best friend… the love of my life… and Catherine…

**Please** don't let this be happening.


	25. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: A rather messy chapter. I should be updating more quickly now- spending a few days in Disneyland gave me some ideas.

* * *

I just barely manage to grab the doorknob before collapsing. My heart is beating way too quickly, and I can't control my breathing at all. Any second Zach will come over here, yelling at me for overexerting myself. 

Near-hysterical laughter escapes my lips. Is that what happened? Did I overexert myself? Was communicating with another human being so damn stressful that I started imagining thing? That would certainly make sense. It isn't like I'm the most social person in the world. Who knows what effects an actual conversation could have had on my brain.

I slide down onto the floor and continue laughing. Tears fall down my face, and I can't help but remember Catherine's awed tone when she made me laugh in my hospital room. I was happy then. I'm half-crazed now. She caused both.

The laughter subsides as I start sobbing into my arms. No, Catherine didn't cause this. She made me happy. She didn't do… **this** to me. This is my own damn fault. If I had more self control, maybe I wouldn't feel this way. Maybe if I were just a bit stronger- had been more equipped to deal with Amy's death…

But… that's not me. I'm not as strong as I should be, which is why I have to deal with- with…

_"This is not your fault, Sara."_

…Why do I have to feel this way? I don't… I don't even know what it is, really. All I really know is that feeling this way at all is wrong. I love Star, and she should be the only one I care about in a romantic sense. Catherine… I don't…

_"Don't what?"_

She's my friend. I told Lindsey that, didn't I? I told her that her mother and I were friends, and that there was nothing romantic between us. Wasn't that the truth? It has to be. Having feelings like that- for Catherine- no. I can't. There has to be something I'm overlooking.

I choke on the bile rising in my throat when I think of the way she sat with me in the hospital. Some of the drugs, maybe? Zach never actually told me what side-effects my medication could have. More laughter bubbles out. Right- maybe the drugs put me in a psychotic state of mind, and when they get out of my system I'll be better.

_"Sara…"_

I kissed her cheek. If I hadn't done that, I might have been able to live in denial for a while more. Maybe I could have lasted through my medical leave. At least after that I'd be able to work it off… But how the hell are you supposed to- fuck. I am in so much trouble. I don't even get why I feel this way. Why I-

How did I let this happen? How did I not notice this? I spent so long getting dressed that night I watched Lindsey. I've admired Catherine's attire every time she's been near. I started missing her even though I had other company. I-I-

"You need to stop crying."

I feel Zach pick me up and drag me towards the stairs. I try to stop the tears, but I can't. Everything just hurts too much. I'm feeling too much- overstimulated, that's it. I can't handle all of this. I want Amy back. I want my best friend to hold me and whisper calming nonsense into my ear; I want to feel her cool cheek against my burning one; I want to play with her hair and revel in its softness- I just want her back. She'd know how to fix this.

_"You need to calm down, Sara. **Please**."_

"Just a bit further, Sara. We need to get you lying down."

I nod into his shoulder. I hear a door opening. You'd think someone with this much money could afford doors that didn't squeak. The doors in my apartment barely make any noise. I know that Catherine and Amy- fuck.

Zach sets me down on an extremely soft surface, and before I know it, I'm shivering. A warm blanket is placed on top of me, and that helps a little, but my whole body is still trembling. I try to regain some control over my breathing, and that seems to help more than the blanket did. I open my eyes and meet Zach's. His glare is more than I can handle, so I turn my head to the side.

I recognize the picture on the nightstand. I'm in Zach's room. The picture's of Thomas- his ex-boyfriend. The only person he didn't kick out of his bed after one night. I never really understood what happened between them. I got the impression that it was Zach's fault, though, which doesn't really make sense. Tom fell in love with Zach. He knew exactly what he was getting into.

"What happened?"

Zach chuckles, and I feel his hand over my forehead. He knows I'm trying to distract myself. Hopefully he'll humor me. I just need a few more seconds of rest- that's all. Then I'll be able to talk again. Not before then, though. I need to rest.

"We had a fight. I punched him. I never quite managed to feel disgusted by my actions. Every time I think about the fight, I wish that I hadn't left it at one punch," I hear Zach's voice tremble. "I wanted to hurt him. Afterwards, we apologized, but I couldn't stop wanting to hurt him. So I told him to get the hell out of the house. I never bothered explaining it to him."

I nod slowly and grip the blanket tighter. I never understood their relationship. Mostly, I couldn't understand how fond Tom was of Zach. It seemed like an entirely one-sided relationship. Seeing the picture… I guess it wasn't.

"Now we get to talk about your relationship problem."

I flinch and feel some of the shaking return as my breathing speeds up again. I don't want to think about it. It's too much. All of it is just too much for me to handle. Zach has to know that, right? He has to know that I can't think about it.

"Zach-"

"No. You don't get to talk just yet. Not unless I ask you a question."

I close my eyes against the new flow of tears threatening to start. I can't do this. I really can't. If he forces me to think about it… I don't know what will happen. I needed more than a few seconds of rest. I want to fall asleep and never wake up.

_"There's a dangerous line of thought."_

"What made you lose control like that?"

I feel the shivers intensify. I remember how cute I thought her yawns were. The way she looked at me… My lips against her cheek… I guess it's obvious, then. I lost control because Catherine's presence overwhelmed me. Just being around her like that… I couldn't help it.

"Just… being around her."

I pull the blanket even tighter, trying to relax into the warmth I know it must be providing. I can't stop shivering from the cold. It shouldn't be so cold. Why the hell is it so cold? Can't this mess be enough? A soft sob makes its way out of my throat, and that opens the floodgates. The tears start flowing in earnest again. Zach ignores them.

"Sara… why does being attracted to someone bother you?"

Why is he even asking that? He should already know why I'm so upset, shouldn't he? He's the jerk who always seems to know things he shouldn't. He shouldn't have to ask.

"I love Amy. I was unfaithful when I slept with Grissom, but at least I didn't feel any real attraction then. I was just using him. Catherine- I-I care about her. More than I should. If- if I got… involved with her… it would mean something. I can't- I love Amy. She's the only person I've ever really loved. I can't betray her like that."

_"Oh, Sara…"_

Zach sighs and I feel his hand squeeze my forearm. "She's dead Sara. You wouldn't be betraying anything. And- for crying out loud, Sara. Amy loved you with all her heart. She would have wanted you to be happy no matter what. She would hate herself if she could see you right now. She loved that you loved her, but if she knew that that love was making you so unhappy…"

He barely knew her. They never really communicated. So why is he giving me a lecture on what Star would have wanted for me? What gives him that right? The sobs are making my body shake even worse than the shivers now. I knew I couldn't deal with this. I was right.

"Zach, can't you just leave it alone?"

"No. This needs to be said, Sara. I should have dealt with it months ago, but I thought that giving you a little time to handle things on your own would help. It didn't. So I'm dealing with it now before you permanently damage yourself. I said I would take care of you. I intend to keep that promise."

I can't believe he's doing this.

"What do you feel for Catherine?"

"I don't-"

He interrupts me sharply. "Bull. You might not want to hear it, but there is undeniable chemistry between you and Ms. Willows. What do you feel for her?"

I swallow against the bile in my throat and try to make sense of the question. What do I feel for Catherine? I- I'm attracted to her. And… feeling that way… I feel like I'm betraying Amy, feeling like that. I don't want to be attracted to Catherine. I love Star. There's been no one else in a long time. Definitely no one who made me feel the way she did.

"I like her. I'm… attracted to her."

_"That's a start."_

"So you're attracted to her. Why do you feel so guilty about that? How is that a betrayal?"

"I love Amy-"

"Yes, you've made that clear. You've also made it clear that your feelings for Ms. Willows are more than just friendly. I'll ask you again: how is that a betrayal? Your lover's dead, Sidle. I suggest you get over it."

Images of her corpse spring into my head, and more tears start to fall. He has no idea what it was like- seeing her dead on our living room floor. That isn't something I can just get over. Every time I think about it, my heart aches. If I had asked Grissom for the day off, she would be alive. Or maybe we would both be dead. Either way, I wouldn't have to live without her.

"I shouldn't feel that way about anyone but Amy. I just shouldn't."

His grip on my arm tightens, and I just know he wants to start yelling at me. Then he relaxes again, and speaks in a calm voice. "You can't help how you feel, Sara. You love Amy, and you're attracted to Catherine. If you think you can stop caring for either of them at will, you're worse off than I realized."

I slam my head into the pillow and cry. He has no idea how much it hurts to even think of betraying Amy. The whole thing with Grissom… I barely kept my sanity through all of that. Actually feeling something for another human being…

Zach sighs and releases his hold on me completely. I open my eyes and look at him through my tears.

"You don't have to do anything about it. You can go into work in a few weeks and be her friend. You never have to hint that you feel anything else for her."

I feel the shaking stop and my breathing finally returns to normal. He's right. I don't have to do anything about it. It doesn't have to change anything. I can- I can still do my job. Still be her friend. I'll just ignore the feelings. I can do that. I don't want anything more than friendship, anyway.

Zach claps my shoulder and stands up. "Get some rest. I can't bring myself to tear into you anymore right now. Riley and Jacob will probably be here when you wake up."

I lean back into the pillows and let out a shaky breath. I'm so tired…

I'm attracted to Catherine.

I don't have to do anything about it.


	26. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: Thanks for the beta, Nidhi.

* * *

_A brunette teenager dashed through the yard, grinning as she heard the furry bundle of energy close the gap between them. A happy grin decorated her face, and her so-far quiet observer delighted in the expression. It was one seen all too rarely._

_The tall girl tripped over a rock, and for a second her observer seemed prepared to charge over and take her friend in her arms. Then the brunette started to laugh, and the dog seemed to take that as an invitation to jump on top of her. Her observer immediately relaxed and walked over to the girl and the playful pup._

_Seeing the familiar flash of crimson hair, the brunette pushed the puppy off of her and stood up, still smiling brightly. The shorter girl laughed and brushed a clump of grass out of the brunette's hair. The dog, finally noticing her, raced over and tackled her to the ground._

_The brunette chuckled at her friend's expense. Unsurprisingly, the redhead grabbed her ankle and pulled her down to the ground to complete the tangled mess of limbs and fur and slobber. The two girls started laughing as the puppy grew more vicious in his playful growls and tugged on their shirts with his mouth. Soon enough, he had latched onto the brunette's arm with his teeth, and when the girl stood up, he found himself suspended in midair._

_Panicking slightly, the puppy immediately detached his teeth and fell to the ground, where his other owner caught him. The poor pup looked horribly embarrassed, and attempted to cover it up by bounding over to his doghouse and grabbing a tennis ball. Laughter filled the yard once more, fully expressing both teenagers' enjoyment of the glorious spring afternoon._

"What the hell were you thinking!"

"I was thinking that she needed to accept her idiotic emotions before she hurt herself."

"And you were just helping her along? I know you, Zach! When it comes to making a point, you're completely tactless and cruel!"

"I wasn't making a point. I was trying to help her since all of her so-called friends seemed to have abandoned her. She avoids you for months because she's in so much pain, and you only think to help her when you're forced to come to Vegas? No wonder she loved Amy so much. Her lover knew better than to leave Sara alone just because she didn't feel like talking."

"Who are you to talk? You only got involved when she showed up in 'your' ER!"

"I'm not her friend. I assumed those who were would take care of her. I didn't realize how wrong my assumption was until she woke up in her hospital room."

"I did-"

Riley's response is cut off as the door squeaks closed. I open my eyes slowly. I feel like hell. Every inch of my body is aching horribly, and my mind feels drained. I know why Riley's yelling at Zach right now. I almost wish I could yell at him. I won't, though. He helped me. He was harsh, but he still helped me.

I really wish I hated him. Being in denial kept me from losing control. If I hated him, I could dismiss his remarks and go back to that. I could tell myself that I really was just imagining my attraction to Catherine. But I don't hate him. Not all the time, at least. And… no, I can't even think that yet. He might've been right about some things, but…

"Dad's really upset."

I tilt my head up and smile at Jacob. He's pouting by the door. I guess he closed it. I can't blame him. They were getting pretty loud. 'They' meaning Riley. Zach's definitely mad, but he hasn't started yelling yet.

"I told you your dad didn't like Zach."

Jacob rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Why not? I like him! He's nice!"

I chuckle and push myself up on the bed. Jacob's probably the only person who thinks Zach is nice. In a few years, he'll know better. Or Riley will have convinced him otherwise. Though, given the state their relationship's in at the moment, Jacob will probably just ignore his father's thoughts on his new 'friend'.

I'm not entirely sure how their relationship got so bad. After we found out that we were being abused, Zach visited both of us in the hospital. Our doctors were nice enough to give us our own room. Detective Scotts probably had something to do with that. When Zach entered our room… Riley just lost his temper. He hadn't said a word all night, but the second he saw Zach… he couldn't stop yelling. He blamed Zach for letting us suffer for years when he knew exactly what was going on.

I don't think Zach could have done anything about it. Riley doesn't remember what we were like at that age. We had a good explanation for every injury. All lies of course, but they still fit. No one would be able to prove that we weren't just rowdy children unless they did an SAE kit. They would have had to have probable cause. Zach couldn't have done anything. Not really.

_"He still could have **tried**."_

I can't really talk to Jacob about all of that. He doesn't know anything about his dad's family.

"I can't talk about it, Jacob. That's between them."

The boy looks annoyed for a few seconds before bouncing up on the bed. "Just like Dad can't talk about Aunt Ruth?"

I close my eyes and sigh. This is what I expected when he entered my hospital room for the first time. I guess he felt like he couldn't yell at someone lying in a hospital bed. I open my eyes again, and am not surprised to see Jacob still scowling at me.

"Jacob, what did Riley tell you?"

He punches the bed viciously. "Nothing! He tried a few times, but he didn't actually tell me anything! All he could say was that he had a sister named Ruth, and that she had been murdered! That's it! You know, he's never even told me about my grandparents! It isn't fair!" He pauses for a second, breathing furiously. "And then when I asked if I could talk to you about Aunt Ruth… he said that you had enough problems without Amy, and that I shouldn't cause more!"

I sigh again and pull Jacob to my side. I ignore the pain in my chest as I do so. Zach will be thrilled to have something to yell at me for. Especially since he's trying to hold his temper with Riley.

"Jacob… I can't tell you everything. That's your dad's job. But… I'll try to explain enough so that you can stand waiting for him to tell you everything. Okay?"

I won't tell Jacob everything- that really is Riley's job- but I'll tell him a little about Ruth. Maybe a little about Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell. I won't mention the abuse, though. Just that Riley had a lousy relationship with his family. I don't think that would be crossing any lines.

"…Okay." He's back to pouting again.

I make sure he's paying attention before I start. "Riley never got along with his family. His parents didn't treat him very well and Ruth- well, your aunt wasn't so bad, I guess. She would watch him and care for him when their parents were unavailable. But then… she ran away. She ran away from home along with my brother. We were both really little, and without our siblings, incredibly lonely. Riley doesn't like thinking about how she ran away- she abandoned him, and it hurt. Talking about her to anyone… it would bring back unpleasant memories. He has no idea how to explain what happened to you."

"You just did."

I nod at his interruption. "That's the simple explanation, though. Riley is going to have to give you the complicated one eventually. And the complicated one… Jacob, I hate to break it to you, but you really aren't old enough to deal with that."

He isn't. Just because Riley and I had our lives uprooted at his age doesn't mean he has to go through the same sort of thing. Knowing that you're related to abusive monsters… Jacob doesn't need to know about all of that. Not until he's older. And even then, Riley will have trouble telling him.

Jacob opens his mouth to complain, but before he gets the chance, the door slams open. Riley storms in, looking furious. Zach's close behind him. I guess they're bringing their argument in here.

My eyes stay on Zach a second longer than they should, and memories of this morning spring into my head. I take a deep breath and fight them back. I need rest. I'll think about everything later, really I will. But I need more rest before I can handle it. All of it is just a little much. I'm too exhausted to think about Amy and Catherine. My chest hurts and my eyes are already starting to burn.

Zach notices my staring. He sighs and turns away, focusing his gaze on the floor. He's thinking of this morning too. He looks uncomfortable. All of that emotional trauma was difficult for both of us. Riley and Jacob's arrival hasn't helped anything. We both needed rest.

"Are you guys done fighting?"

I smile at Jacob's question. I have to admire his nerve. If I was Riley's kid, there was no way I would speak up with him looking the way he does now. Especially with Zach in the room.

Riley forces himself to smile at his son. "Yeah." Zach rolls his eyes.

Jacob seems to share Zach's opinion, as he scoffs at his father's answer. Riley flinches, looking over at me for support. I try to smile reassuringly at him, but I know it doesn't help much. No matter how much he dislikes Zach, their arguments still hit him hard.

"I, uh, just wanted to make sure you were all right after… everything. Jacob and I should really get going. I'll come back tomorrow by myself, okay? Just to check up on you." He throws an accusatory glare at Zach. I don't think their fight settled everything.

"Right. See you tomorrow." Jacob scowls, but he still hugs me goodbye.

"I'll e-mail you everyday, Sara. Just in case Dad doesn't let me come over again."

I hug him back, enjoying the human contact. "I'll look forward to it. Zach might not let me e-mail you back, though." That's right… as long as I'm in his house, Zach is in charge of me. Jerk.

Riley pulls Jacob off the bed and waves his farewell. He bumps into Zach on his way off, and I'm not sure whether it was on purpose or not. He looks as distracted as he is upset. Zach watches him leave, but doesn't bother saying goodbye, though he does ruffle Jacob's hair.

We meet each other's eyes awkwardly. Zach cracks his neck and gestures towards the door. "Ah… I'll be downstairs making lunch. You can sleep until the food's ready. After we eat, we'll talk. We didn't manage to complete our conversation this morning, and I'd really like to get it over with as soon as possible."

I nod slowly and lie back down on the bed. Neither of us is looking forward to finishing our conversation.

* * *

_Two women sat happily on a bench in the middle of a park, sharing an ice cream cone. The delicious treat was half-melted, though the two eating it seemed oblivious. They were too busy staring into each other's eyes, reveling in the love that had only just been realized._

_Every once in a while, a drop of the melting ice cream would slide down the side of the cone. The women took turn licking the drop away, though sometimes they forgot whose turn it was, resulting in several affectionate kisses._

_The ice cream was disappearing extremely slowly, not that either minded. It was a beautiful day and they were spending it together. That mattered more than any sugary dessert. It was more fun to eat the melted ice cream, anyway. Easier to share._

_The hours passed slowly, as did the ice cream. By the end of the day, the women still sat together, now pointing out the constellations with the hands that had been covered in melted ice cream. The taller one whispered something in the redhead's ear about her favorite star, resulting in happy laughter and a playful slap on the brunette's shoulder._

_The brunette stood up suddenly, dragging her girlfriend up with her. The mischievous grin lighting up her face was the only warning the redhead got before her sensitive ribs were attacked by a pair of strong, able hands._

_After a few minutes of gasping for breath, the shorter woman managed to turn the tables and pushed the brunette up against a tree, kissing her fiercely. In seconds, all semblance of self-control vanished, the scene quickly becoming more intimate than proper for a public setting._

_They were both breathless when they separated. For a moment it looked like they were going to start kissing again, but they settled for wrapping their arms around each other, saving their passion for a more appropriate time._

"Time to eat, Sara."

I open my eyes and groan when I see Zach standing over me. I glance over at the clock. Wow. I actually managed to get an hour of rest in a bed. Not a couch in sight. I try to sit up, but Zach's arm stops me. I look up at him questioningly, not having the energy to start a fight.

"Take your pain medication first. After you finish the glass of water, you can join me downstairs for a late lunch."

I nod weakly and take the pill offered to me. The glass of water is on the nightstand. Once again, the picture of Thomas catches my eye. What is it with Zach and odd pictures? I shake my head and swallow the pill. The water doesn't go down easily, but I still manage to empty the glass.

I sit up and roll off of the bed. I don't feel quite as horrible as I did, but I still don't have a lot of energy. Everything hurts. Even without the bullet wound, I'd probably be in a lot of pain. Or maybe the bullet wound is what's causing the pain. I honestly don't know. I don't really care, either.

I stand up and walk out the door, heading for the stairs. I'm careful to grab the banister as I make my way down them. I don't need more trouble. Falling down Zach's stairs definitely qualifies.

Without much difficulty, I make it to the table Zach's sitting at. He nudges a plate of food in my direction, and I mutter my thanks. I don't make much of an effort to eat the food. I want to delay thinking about everything as long as possible. Even though ignoring it is painful. It's like something's constantly yanking at the back of my head, desperately trying to remove the flesh and bone there. I don't want to think about it.

This is different than before, right? I'm not in denial anymore. I'm just ignoring my newly discovered issues. Not that the difference really matters. Either way, Zach's about to put a stop to it. Maybe not for good, but definitely for long enough that I could lose control again. My sanity's hanging on a thread. A pathetically weak thread.

"Eat. No point delaying the inevitable."

I hate it when he's right. I lift a carrot to my mouth and chomp on it. My hand is shaking. I almost bite off my finger. I sigh and throw the half-eaten carrot back on the plate. Screw it. Let's get this over with.

"You really should eat before we start this."

"I don't want to."

Zach's eyes flash dangerously. We both know I'm acting like a child, and he's probably dying to tell me to grow up. But if he does that, we'll end up avoiding the conversation again. And he knows that isn't an option. He takes several calming breaths and pins me with his gaze.

"Fine then. Tomorrow, though, you are going to have to eat three meals a day. I'm going easy on you today because I know how miserable this will be."

I close my eyes and wait for him to start.

"You're attracted to Catherine, right?"

I jerk my head down in a sharp nod. Yes. I thought we covered that. I'm attracted to her, and I hate myself for feeling that way. I would never do anything about it of course, but feeling that way at all… I feel like I'm betraying my Star, and I promised myself I would never do that to her.

"In what way?"

My heart starts to pound painfully in my chest. I didn't think he would go any deeper into **that**.

"What do you mean?"

Zach leans back in his chair and cocks his head to one side. "Let me phrase that better. Why are you attracted to her?"

My entire body tenses. No. I don't want to think about it. It should be simple. I'm attracted to Catherine, I won't do a damn thing about it. **Why** I'm attracted to her shouldn't matter at all. It **shouldn't**, damn it.

"Don't think about it, Sara. Just answer."

I take a deep breath and try to answer. "I, uh, well… she's beautiful. I guess anyone with eyes can that, though. She… the way she walks is almost hypnotizing. It's… I think it's a leftover from her dancing days. …Her eyes. They're the deepest ocean blue you've ever seen, and whenever she looks at me they're shrouded in affection. She cares about me. She genuinely cares about me. She noticed when I got so depressed after- she notices things about me that no one else cares to see. She's an amazing mother. She and Lindsey don't always get along, but she only wants what's best for her. She's… incredible."

I close my eyes and try not to vomit as my words catch up with me. I know I won't do anything about it, but I still shouldn't be feeling this way. I still love Amy- I always will. How can I be attracted to Catherine when I still love Amy so much?

"You love Amy. She's been dead for over a year, and you still love her."

"**Yes.**" He sounds skeptical when he says that for some reason.

"You knew her better than anyone else in the world?"

"Yeah. I did. We knew each other for almost thirty years." The thirtieth anniversary of our first meeting is this October. We spent so many years being happy together.

Zach smiles. It isn't a pleasant smile. My head hurts and I get the feeling that he's going to finally get what he wants out of this conversation.

"How heartbroken do you think she'd be if she knew that you were giving up a chance at happiness because of her ghost?"


	27. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: Let's just say there were a lot of first drafts. Sorry for the lateness.

* * *

I can feel my heart stopping. Other than that, everything's blank. It's like the world's on mute. I only know I'm breathing because I'm staring at my hands. I can see my chest rising and falling at an erratic pace. All because of one question. One simple question. A question that seems to have turned my entire world upside-down.

I know what he asked. I can barely comprehend the meaning behind the words. Barely. Actually answering it… I can't. I can't answer his question. Because if I do… what happens then? I don't think I can actually deal with the answer. How am I supposed to say it out loud if I can't even admit to myself that…

Sensation roars back into my veins, and the immediate onset of nausea almost has me throwing up all over Zach's kitchen table. I stand up shakily and despite tripping over my own feet quite a bit, I make it to the sink. Before I even know what's happening, the combination of the bile in my throat and the still fresh gunshot wound has me coughing up a fair amount of blood.

Some small part of my brain is aware of Zach's hands on my back, and his bitter complaints about unimportant things like stitches. The rest of my head is focused on what the unspoken answer to his question means.

_The teenager pulled roughly at the blazer her best friend had all but forced her into. She didn't want to go to the dance. Dancing was not something she enjoyed. She enjoyed school social events even less. Out of the entire high school, she only had three people she really knew. Two friends and an ex-girlfriend._

_The night before, she had figured that she would stop by Amy's house to check by on her friend before Dominic arrived to pick her up. Things had changed sometime between then and Amy forcing her into the jacket and a pair of slacks. As if her face hadn't already been on fire thanks to helping Amy with her dress and make up._

_Sara sighed and ran a hand through her dark hair. She felt ridiculous. She couldn't believe she was actually getting worked up over attending a stupid dance. If Star hadn't decided to play dirty… "What if he doesn't show up, Dreamer? Then I won't have anyone to dance with! Please? I really want to go!"_

_Yeah, right. As if anyone in their right mind wouldn't show up for a date with Amy. But then, she was the one who had melted at Amy's absurd reasoning. Sara tugged at her collar a final time before walking out of the quiet bedroom. She had heard a car pull up a few seconds ago. Dominic would be knocking at the door any second._

_Amy grinned at her when she finally made her way down the stairs. Sara crossed her arms, trying not to think about the comment Amy had made just last week about her looking like a petulant child when she did so. How had she gotten roped into this again?_

_Another look at Amy's happy face reminded her instantly. Her best friend in the entire world had her whipped. Sara shook her head and leaned back against the wall, waiting for the knock on the door that would officially announce Dominic's arrival._

_It came soon enough, and Amy went to answer the door. Sara stood back, trying to remain in the shadows as the boy walked into the house. She didn't know what to make of him, really. Until he had asked Star out, she had never heard of him. She supposed he wasn't too bad, though. He seemed polite, at least._

_Throughout Ms. Archer's thorough inspection of Dominic, she stood by the stairs silently. Something was missing. She wasn't entirely sure what it was. She had already noticed that Teague's usual barking was absent, but that was to be expected. Ms. Archer had decided that she didn't want to risk any slobber on her daughter's new dress. Sara doubted the poor pup was even aware of a visitor._

_So what was missing? Sara let her eyes wander carefully over Amy's form, trying to remember whether or not part of the ensemble was missing. When she reached the straps of the dress, she mentally swore and looked down at Dominic's hands. The genius had forgotten to get Amy a corsage. Sara shook her head and pushed away from the wall, walking towards the back door._

_She opened it and slipped into the yard quietly, so as not to alert Teague. She walked over to Ms. Archer's garden and squatted down, searching for something that would work. Daisies. Sara closed her eyes and imagined the cheery flowers on Amy's dress. She smiled. Those would work._

_She picked the flowers and walked back into the house. Amy and Dominic were still standing in the front room, but Ms. Archer had apparently left. Sara stepped forward and tapped Amy on the shoulder. Her friend looked confused for a moment until she saw the flowers in her hand. Sara tied the flowers to the strap of her dress and they both smiled._

_Two hours later, Sara was trying desperately to keep a hold on her temper. Watching Dominic step on Star's toes every few seconds wasn't helping. She grit her teeth and sighed, wondering how she was supposed to get her friend away from the idiot. A solution had presented itself earlier, but she wasn't entirely sure she could follow through with it. She saw Amy's flinch the next time Dominic stepped on a foot, and that made up her mind._

_Sara made her way over to the dancing couple swiftly, trying to ignore the glances and whispers that followed her path. Standing two feet away from Amy, she suddenly felt extremely aware of her unattractive lanky frame… and very, very nervous. All the same, she tapped her friend on the shoulder for the second time that night._

_"May I have this dance?"_

_Amy grinned at her and took the offered hand. Both were perfectly happy leaving Dominic in the middle of the dance floor. They walked a few yards away from him before they actually began dancing. Amy kept her arms around Sara's neck, and Sara held Amy somewhat awkwardly around the waste._

_A few minutes into the dance, Amy laughed. Sara looked down at her friend questioningly. Amy smiled and kissed her on the cheek._

_"I'm just having a wonderful time all of a sudden. I should have just asked you to be my date to begin with."_

_Sara rolled her eyes and continued to dance silently with her friend. When the song ended, Amy pulled away from her and looked her straight in the eye._

_"Thank you for putting aside your shyness and dancing with me."_

_Sara just blushed and looked down at her feet. Praise was still a bit awkward for her to deal with, even when it came from Amy._

_"You would sacrifice a lot to make me happy, huh?"_

_"Yeah. I love you, Star. I would do anything to see you smile."_

_For a moment after her statement, Sara felt horrified at the tears in her friend's eyes. Then she saw the bright smile on Amy's lips, and she relaxed until her own tears formed at Amy's next words._

_"Me too, Dreamer. I love you to death, and would do anything to see you happy."_

I look down at the crimson fluid flowing into the drain. The color of her hair. The hair I loved to run my hands through at every opportunity. The hair I would toy with to calm her down after she had to put someone's pet down. I remember every second of our life together- every second of pure bliss.

My mind flickers through all of our memories together, and a new round of coughing starts when I think about our dance. We each agreed that we would do anything to see the other happy. A sob escapes my lips when newer memories surface.

Catherine; coming over to my apartment to yell at me for leading on her friend. Catherine; trying to hide her hurt expression when I pulled away from her touch. Catherine; asking if I was okay. Catherine, comforting me after I saw Ruth's corpse. Catherine; cleaning the cut on my arm. Catherine; calling my cell phone because she didn't want to shock me by knocking on my car window. Catherine; offering me a place to sleep. Catherine; saying that she liked me. Catherine; hugging me in my car. Catherine; comforting me. Catherine; staying when I explained the darker scar on my wrist. Catherine, blushing when I told her she looked amazing. Catherine; giving me Gatorade because she thought I might be sick. Catherine; staying with me after I got shot. Catherine; calling Zach a complete jerk. Catherine; drinking Kool-Aid with me.

Catherine; making me feel happy.

I fight back the tears waiting to fall. I told Zach I knew my Star better than anyone else. I do. Amy wanted me to be happy. She said it time and time again. I swallow around a lump in my throat, finally answering Zach's question.

"She would be devastated," I finally manage to whisper. I hear Zach's satisfied sigh.

"Yeah. She would be. Get it now? C'mon, let's get you lying down again. I should probably put a new dressing on that wound of yours after all that fun."

I let Zach guide me to the couch. He's getting too used to doing this for me. Not that I really care right now, with the position I'm in. I don't think I'll ever admit it to anyone, but right now I really need help looking after myself. Though, if Zach wasn't looking after me in the first place…

I lean down against the overpriced cushions and let Zach remove my shirt. Out of morbid curiosity, I look down at the now bloody dressing. Mom or Dad usually removed my dressings by force before I got a chance to admire them.

Zach glares at me when he sees the amount of blood on the bandages. I ignore him and continue to look at the darkest patch of blood. I never actually asked what part of me the bullet went through.

"The bullet went through your right lung and lodged itself in a rib," Zach mutters, taking out some sort of medical kit from under the couch. "It was a real pain to remove. Seeing you destroy yourself after taking that bullet out was annoying as hell."

I nod and try not to wince as he tears the bandages off. The glue on them was meant to stick for much longer than it did. I close my eyes against the pain and concentrate on the cool air brushing across previously covered skin. It actually feels really nice.

Zach starts cleaning the injury, and I do my best to ignore him. Getting the injury cleaned was always my least favorite part. It always made me want to make a dash for the nearest exit. Catherine managed to keep me calm when she cleaned the cut on my forearm, though.

I shift away from the alcoholic prep pad in Zach's hand. It still makes me dizzy to think about it. I was brutally reminded that Amy would have wanted to be happy, but I don't really know what to do about it. I miss her. I wish she were still alive. I'm miserable without her.

And yet, at the same time… Catherine makes it slightly better. It doesn't go away, but…

"You still don't have to do anything about it. Just stop tearing yourself up about 'betraying' Amy. You aren't. She's dead, Sara. The relationship you had with her is over. Feel free to treasure her memory, but don't lock yourself up because you feel like moving on is a betrayal. If you want to pursue something with Catherine, fine. If you don't, that's also fine. I don't really care. I just want you to stop ripping yourself apart with misplaced guilt and God knows what else. It's getting on my nerves."

I nod uncertainly. I'm not really sure what he expects me to say. I have no idea what's going through my head right now. I haven't really gotten a chance to absorb what's happening. I need to be alone and think about everything.

"Captain Brass is coming by in an hour. You get to talk about the shooting today."

I almost laugh out of relief. Something related to work. Something I can focus on that isn't personal. Thank God. If I didn't have a hole in my chest, I'd be at work attempting to deal with this. Distracting myself. I don't think I'm going to like discussing the shooting with IAB, but it's still work related.

I can't help but think Zach planned this. That's slightly disconcerting, though. That would mean he knew how our conversation would play out, and he also knew how to calm me down from it. I'm really not comfortable with that. We don't even call each other friends.

* * *

I don't like dealing with IAB. At all. I get flashbacks of answering my mother's defense lawyer's questions whenever I have to deal with them. This time was no different except for the incredible relief I felt at the beginning. I was talking about an action I took while doing my job. I felt relaxed for a while, which was… nice.

Talking to Jim was also comforting. He wanted to visit me in the hospital, but had a lot of trouble getting away from work. We got a chance to catch up for the first time in what seemed like forever. It's a bit disturbing. First Greg, now Jim. I'm starting to wonder how many people I've been missing without knowing it.

"Ready to go?"

I look up to find Zach standing in front of me, attempting to look nonchalant. I can tell he's only acting. His hands are shaking. Something's wrong. I can't remember the last time something's been wrong with Zach. I didn't spend that much time with Jim and IAB- what could have happened in that time?

"Yeah. What happened?"

He gives me a long, hard stare before marching towards his car. "I fucking **hate** cops."

I follow him slowly. I'm tired, but besides that, being in a confined space with him right now probably isn't a good idea. I get into the car hesitantly, and wait for him to start the car or start yelling. He starts the car.

Throwing caution to the wind, I ask again. "What happened?"

Zach keeps his focus on the road, but I know he heard me. After a few minutes of silence, he answers.

"Six year old came in with his brother with a fractured wrist. Said he fell out of a tree. No scratch marks of any kind around the wrist or any other part of his uncovered body, just a swollen wrist with a really bad bruise. I X-rayed his arm. There is no way in hell he fell out of a tree. Oh yeah, and there were several other fractures that looked like they hadn't healed properly. I took a look at his file. Apparently, we see him quite often for broken bones. He should have still had a cast on both arms and one leg, but he didn't. No one recorded removing them. I called family services and the police. They didn't seem too concerned seeing how the boy always had a plausible excuse. So I had to send him back home."

I feel a knot form in my stomach, and I suddenly feel like punching whoever dismissed Zach's concern. 'Plausible excuse'? I don't think six year olds can even climb trees high enough for the fall to fracture anything. I only started thinking that was a good excuse when I was nine.

"I could tell Jim about it. He'd probably think that it's at least worth investigating."

Zach tightens his hold on the steering wheel. "Yeah, your friends seem half-way competent. But I screwed up, so it wouldn't matter. The kid's brother knows I tried to get the police to look into it. I doubt I'll ever see the little boy again. Oh yeah, and I don't have a valid address for him, and I'm pretty sure that the name on his file is fake. Now that the kid's out of the hospital…"

I groan and place my head in my hands, cursing whoever Zach got on the phone. Most of the detectives I've worked with would have never let something like this go. They would have at least taken a look at the child before deciding that there was no abuse. Family services… that seems like sloppy work on their end, too.

"Why were you even at the hospital?" I thought he would just stay at home, thinking of new things I could improve on before I got back.

"If I had been planning on staying at home, I would have driven you myself. I would not have requested that Captain Brass do it. I wanted to be at work. We deal with stress in similar ways, Sara."

It looks like his method of dealing with stress backfired on him this time. I look over at his hands. They're still shaking. I'm not sure if he's pissed off or disturbed by what happened.

"You know what really got to me?"

I shake my head. Saying 'no' or 'what' doesn't really seem appropriate at the moment.

"His eyes were the same color as Riley's. They had the same expression as his, too, when he thanked me. I screwed up with him just like I screwed up with Riley. I haven't been this furious with myself in a long time."

I have no idea what to say to that.

* * *

After making sure I ate something and playing a quick game of chess, Zach decided to lock himself in his room. So I finally have a chance to think. Great. I can't even begin to count the amount of disasters that have sprung up because I was left along with my thoughts. Amy used to make jokes about that. It worried her a bit, though.

I press the palms of my hands into my eyes and breathe out slowly. I don't know what to do about this. The only thing I'm really sure of is that I still love Amy, and I would do anything to hold her in my arms again. I miss her.

The tangled web of emotions I feel when I'm around Catherine… I have no reason to feel guilty anymore, but I probably will. No matter what Zach says, no matter what I know Amy would have wanted for me, I still feel bonded to my Star. And as long as I feel so connected to her, I don't think I'll be able to completely banish the feeling of guilt that stirs up when I think about Catherine.

I'm attracted to Catherine. She makes me feel… I think about her making me laugh in my hospital room. I sounded like myself just then. She sparked that. For a split second, I forgot how much physical and emotional pain I was in. She's the first person who's been able to make me feel so alive since Amy's death.

That's another thing. I can actually call Amy dead now. It used to be so difficult- every time I said it I'd feel like someone had thrust a knife through my heart. It's easier now. It's still hurts, but it's like the knife doesn't go as deep. I'm not sure when the pain started to lessen. I don't know if that means I've started to accept her death, or if I've actually started to move on.

The thought of moving on scares me. Not just the possibility of moving on to Catherine- I haven't really thought about that. The possibility of moving on from Amy. She's always been there for me. Twenty-eight years of sharing everything. How am I supposed to move on from that? She was my best friend, and for the last couple years of her life, she was my lover. The woman I considered to be the love of my life.

The thought of moving on from her terrifies me.

What terrifies me even more is that I don't think my heart's giving me a choice in the matter.


	28. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: Ahem. So. An update. Not an update that has much in the way of romance, but an update nonetheless, and it does help with the part of the plot that doesn't involve Sara and Catherine getting together. ...Yes, there's actually more to the plot than that. Shocking, I know.

Okay, in case it's not obvious, I'm terrible at updating and finishing stories. That's why, despite being updated and losing its hiatus tag, you shouldn't start thinking that I'm going to be consistent about writing new chapters for this story. Sorry, but I just really suck at keeping my mind in one story long enough to complete it. But as of today, I can (somewhat) safely say that I'm not abandoning this story.

Also, this story was started and hasn't been touched since 2007. Since I've kind of lost interest in CSI since then, I will only incorporate canon material from the first seven seasons, and maybe a bit of the eighth. At this point, this story is so AU that it probably doesn't matter much, but... yeah.

For **scuby**, since she never let me forget about this story.

* * *

"_I'm not seeing a doctor, Amy. I don't care if I start coughing up blood; I'd rather do it here than at the hospital. You aren't going to change my mind about this, so stop trying."_

_Amy rolled her eyes at her sick friend's tirade. As sick as Sara was, it was hard to make out most of the words, but she got the general idea. No doctors. Rather die than see doctors. Why yes, I am ignoring all of the help they've given me in the past, why do you ask?_

_The redhead sighed and scowled down at the pathetically worn-out figure masquerading as her best friend that was curled up on the couch. Teague was lying on top of her, looking equally pathetic. Amy found that she had a great deal more sympathy for the poor dog. Without his favorite playmate, his life had gotten very dull._

_There were any number of things about Sara that drove Amy nuts, and this was just one of them. Really, it had been building since they were little kids (now of course, Amy knew why), but it still annoyed her whenever it started mattering. Sara was sick, and her little vendetta against doctors wasn't exactly going to help her._

"_Dreamer, you love me, right?"_

_Sara glared at Amy and partially hid her head under the blanket her foster mother had been kind enough to give her. Teague whimpered and pawed the area where he felt his companion's head should be. Amy nearly started laughing right there, but quickly reminded herself that it wasn't very nice to laugh at a sick person._

"_It's not a matter of love," Sara mumbled belligerently, "I just don't like doctors."_

"_That wasn't the question Sara."_

_An unhappy sigh could be heard from under the blanket, and Sara popped her head back out. "Yeah, I love you." She said it so quietly that Amy almost didn't hear her. The healthier of the two smiled happily._

"_And I love you too. Which is why I'm not going to be sending you to the office of some moron who's less educated than you."_

"_But you said—"_

"_I know what I said," Amy interrupted. "And I was serious. But you know, you aren't as smart as you think you are; doctors are very intelligent people, and I can guarantee that all of them are more educated than you." The redhead moved to sit down on the couch, forcing Teague to take up residence on the floor. "Like I said, I love you, so I'm not going to just sit back and let you be sick on your own, but I'm also not going to let just anyone take a look at you."_

_There was a knock on the door, and a particularly vicious smiled lit up Amy's face. "So I invited Tom and Zach over."_

_After a few minutes of Sara spluttering objections and trying to dislodge herself from the blanket's grip so she could go upstairs and lock herself in her room, someone answered the door, and Tom and Zach entered the house._

_Amy almost laughed when Sara immediately stopped trying to argue with her and escape the blanket's clutches when she caught sight of Zach. She didn't have the heart to tell her friend that it was next to impossible for someone as obviously sick as she was to look cool._

_Tom stepped forward with a happy grin to greet their dog, much to Teague's pleasure. Zach held back, scowling at Amy and Sara in a way that suggested he was hoping that whatever Sara had was fatal. Amy glared right back._

_She'd never gotten along with Zachary Quartz. She never would. Not surprising, given the amount of trouble Sara had with him. No, her relationship with Zach wasn't something she cared about._

_But Thomas was someone Amy loved._

* * *

"I'd like to say I'll be back soon, but my boss will probably try to kill me if I take any more time off. So… I'll see you whenever I see you." Riley shuffles his feet awkwardly, looking more like Jacob than I thought was possible. "Take care of yourself, okay? Don't let Zach get to you too much."

"Don't you worry about a thing, Riley." Greg grabs me from behind, carefully not touching my still very tender injury. "Anything that tries to get their hands on our girl has to deal with us, and that includes Dr. Grouchy! Right Nicky?"

Nick laughs and takes a mock swing at Greg's head for the use of the nickname. "Right, Greggo."

Riley looks almost bewildered by the verbal affirmation, but he smiles anyway. I return the expression as best I can, but I know I fall a little short of the mark. I'm too exhausted to make much of any kind of expression, and smiling when one of my best friends is leaving the state really doesn't suit me.

The news that Riley was leaving didn't surprise me at all, but it was still unpleasant. For a few moments a day, things felt like they were the way they should be. Even with the Star-shaped hole that seems to follow me around, Riley was able to make me feel comfortable.

_That doesn't have to end,_ I remind myself forcibly. _Greg and Nick are here, and Warrick would be if he wasn't still stuck on—Ruth's case. And there's still—_

I stop myself before thinking Catherine's name. No. Catherine isn't really an option right now, is she?

Just thinking about it makes guilt squirm throughout my body, but I force it down. So I'm avoiding Catherine. So what? The fact of the matter is, I'm not ready to be around her just yet. My emotions are going haywire just _thinking_ about Catherine. If I see her, my head will probably explode.

It still makes me feel guilty, though. Whatever my other feelings regarding Catherine are, I still value her as a friend. Avoiding her doesn't seem right, no matter what the circumstance. I know that the current emotional tally has me well ahead of Catherine as far as blindly causing people pain, and I hate knowing that I'm probably earning myself another mark right now.

Though to be fair, breakfast had been Greg and Nick's idea. Me and Riley just got dragged along for the ride. Even if I'd wanted to, it would've been hard to include Catherine. And to begin with, Riley and I had wanted some time alone to say a proper goodbye, so—

I make my mind shut up before I drive myself insane. More insane. At least this way Riley gets to know Nick and Greg a little better. Due to Zach being—well, _Zach_, they haven't had many chances to talk, making both sides uncomfortable. None of them want to admit it out loud, which happens to be very good for their health, but having me so close to people they know nothing about is obviously bothering them all just a little.

So saying goodbye like this isn't all bad. I step gingerly out of Greg's arms and stick out a hand for Riley to shake. Riley nods and takes it, pulling me into him for a hug. I gladly return it. "Take care, Riley. Look after Jacob."

"Watch it, Sara; I don't need to be told to look after my own kid," he murmurs into my hair.

"I know. Look after him anyway."

"Right." Riley lets me go with a smile on his face, and if his eyes are shining a little brighter than normal, no one comments. "Well, see ya. Good luck with everything."

I just nod as I watch my friend get into his car. He has to go back to the hotel he's staying at to pick up Jacob before he can go to the airport, and his flight isn't until the evening, but this is the last I'll see of him for some time.

"_Don't forget to keep in touch."_

Maybe it's a good thing Greg and Nick are here. If Riley and I were left to our own devices, we probably would have had a very uncomfortable last encounter. There's a lot that needs to be dealt with in both of our lives, and neither of us is very good at dealing with things.

Which is why Zach is my current emotional support. I make a face and shake my head. Speaking of…

"I really need to get back to Zach's house before he starts thinking you kidnapped me."

Greg laughs and puffs up his chest. "Ha! As if he'd ever figure out who did it. We _are_ CSIs after all."

Despite myself, I find myself smiling just a little. "Yes, but Zach doesn't exactly trust you or any other member of law enforcement. He'd figure it out on his own, and then the two of you would be in real trouble."

Greg winks. "Now, now, don't start doubting me Sara! I did say I would brave even Dr. Grouchy for you, didn't I? A knight never goes back on his promise to a princess!"

I'm apparently a princess now. When did Greg become a knight? I'm about to ask him when Nick interrupts cheerfully. "So does that mean you're volunteering to take Sara back? Riley was her ride on the way to the diner after all."

The former lab tech all but deflates before our eyes. "Ah, wait, Nick—um, what I meant by braving Dr. Grouchy—uh—Sara, help me."

Nick laughs at his brave knight of a friend. "Hey now, the knight doesn't get to ask the princess for help when he's facing down a dragon. He's got to do it himself. Go for it, Greggo!"

Greg stares beseechingly at me, and I shrug back. I'm certainly not in any hurry to get back, no matter what I told them. Zach's already going to be furious that I left the house without his permission to go have breakfast with my 'cop' friends and Riley. The longer I can delay getting back, the better.

"Okay… Wait, I've got it! Sara can stay at my place from now on! There's only one bed, but you know, we could definitely make it work." The grin on his face makes it very clear how he thinks we could make it work.

"In your dreams, Greggo."

"Every night," he sighs.

"Come on Greg, don't be ridiculous. Sara probably shouldn't have been out this long to begin with." I wince and glare at Nick. "It'd probably be a good idea to get her back to her doctor as soon as possible, and from the sounds of things, you volunteered. Hop to it now!"

For a moment, Greg looks like he's close to challenging Nick to a duel to get out of it, but then he sighs and lowers his head. "Very well. I shall go forth and slay the evil dragon, granting the princess dominion over his realm."

"Greg, if you don't stop referring to me as a princess, you'll be the one to need a doctor."

Greg sticks his tongue out at me. "Whatever you say, my princess."

* * *

After some obviously delayed goodbyes, we pile into Greg's car, Greg looking significantly unenthusiastic about ferrying me back to Zach's house.

"There's still time, you know. We could run away together."

"Do you really have that much of a problem with Zach?" Zach getting along with anyone past puberty is practically unheard of, but the kind of negative reaction Greg's having towards him is also pretty unusual. Most people just realize that Zach isn't someone meant to be befriended and do their best to ignore his attitude.

Greg leans back in his seat and starts the car. "Not really. But you've got to admit that he isn't the easiest person to make friends with. He's Dr. Grouchy, after all."

"Yes, but I still think you're overreacting."

Greg taps his fingers against the steering wheel and awkwardly tries to avoid my eyes.

"Greg—"

"—He yelled at me, okay?" Greg mutters, a dull red flush running up his neck.

I blink. That… isn't exactly usual behavior for Zach. He doesn't tend to yell at people a lot. He can be an acidic, malevolent bastard, but raising his voice isn't a diplomatic technique he cares for. And I can't think of when Zach could have possibly found the time to yell at one of my friends that he's tried his absolute damnedest to avoid them. For the week I've been at his house, he's basically kept himself locked in his room when he isn't keeping an eye on me.

"Why?" I finally ask.

Greg doesn't say anything for a long time. With anyone else, I'd be horribly uncomfortable, but because it's Greg, the awkward silence isn't as agonizing. And if he's bothering to take his time to think about it, he's at least going to answer me instead of avoiding the question.

"How long have you two known each other?"

Of course, I could be wrong.

I shrug. "Pretty much forever. I—ran into him when I was little and circumstances kept forcing us to rely on him, so we sort of just stayed together. We were never really friends, though—we're still not. That's just—not what we are to each other."

Greg nods contemplatively. "So he hung out with you a lot. And… with Riley too? He's kind of older than the two of you, isn't he?"

"Yeah. He picked us up from school once, so I ended up telling Amy about him, and she said he had to be one of the strangest people she'd ever met if he was willing to hang out with little kids." She said other things about Zach too, but it hurts too much to think about now. Despite how complicated everything is with Zach, she got a lot closer to him than most people do. I wonder if that's why Zach has that picture of us.

"Amy?"

I flinch and jerk a little in my seat. I forgot I was with someone who wouldn't know. With everything that's happened in the last week, and even before then, I'd gotten used to the people around me knowing my entire life story. I didn't like it at first, but not having to hide anything was a little nice.

I clear my throat. It's harder to breathe for some reason. "I—she—" How are you supposed to explain to one of your closest friends that you grew up with the love of your life, she's gone now, and he never heard anything about it? And I can't just call her a friend.

It's getting even harder to breathe now. Stars are spotting my peripheral vision, and I blink as fiercely as I can to get rid of them, but it doesn't seem to help. Greg's looking at me in concern now, and I can see his lip start to form a question.

"I'm fine, I just—it's nothing," I answer preemptively. "She's just—not someone I talk about anymore. I mean, I only talk about her with the people who knew her." Shit. I really could have done without adding that in past tense.

I don't have the time to hate myself for that slip because Greg's eyes widen in comprehension and he turns back to paying proper attention to the road. I feel sick enough that I start to wonder if I really should have left Zach's house at all. First Catherine, now Greg. More people are starting to know that something happened than I'm comfortable with.

"Oh. Well okay then."

Greg doesn't seem very willing to open his mouth again, but then neither am I. All the same, I'd kind of like an answer to my original question. I'd also like to know why he's so interested in how I'm connected to Zach, but I don't really want to open the complicated can of worms that is my relationship with Zachary Quartz with anyone.

"I just asked because I was wondering what the hell his problem was," Greg blurted out. "I mean, at first I was. After a couple minutes of him ranting at me I got it, but at first, it was just your doctor throwing a fit at me for not looking after you properly."

What?

"What?" I croak shakily.

"Yeah, I know, that was my reaction. 'Cause, I mean, watching the way you two act around each other… it just didn't make any sense. I know I haven't seen much of the two of you together, but geez, even just watching him; he's not the kind of guy that just starts yelling over nothing, is he?"

"Right," I respond, feeling more than a little shocked at this point. Zach—he doesn't—we're not even _friends!_

"Right, well, it was just weird. And you probably already know, but he has got to be one of the freaking scariest guys I've ever seen when he gets properly pissed off."

"I—" I look down at my wrist, remembering his reaction when he saw how badly damaged it was. "Yeah. Yeah, he's really something."

Greg grins at me. "He really loves you, you know that? Purely a fraternal thing though, which is good, because otherwise I'd probably break his heart when I told him about our secret relationship, and I can't imagine him being nice after something like that."

Is Greg's mission today making my head explode or something? Why does he have to keep on talking about things that don't make any sense at all?

And Zach—do I just not know him as well as I thought I did?

* * *

"All right, I guess I'll just abandon you at the doorstep, my princess," Greg says dramatically, complete with an over-the-top bow. "Good luck explaining to Dr. Grouchy what you were doing out with us all morning; don't worry—I'm sure he won't kill you!"

"Thanks Greg," I mumble as he skips quickly off to his car, looking happier than anyone just getting off work should. I turn around and face the door, frowning at it. Zach won't kill me, but he'll hardly be happy about my behavior. I left him a very detailed note, but I don't know if he read it or not, and even if he did, that probably just gave him time to be angry instead of worried.

Wait—is that shouting or am I hearing things?

No, that's definitely shouting. _Zach's_ shouting. What the hell is going—?

The door slams open, and I just barely avoid getting hit by it. The person storming out of the house, on the other hand, runs straight into me and my heavily damaged body. The pain that immediately shoots through my body shocks me, and I almost end up collapsing, but before I can, the person who managed to infuriate Zach so thoroughly catches me and holds me up off the ground.

"Oh God, sorry Sara. Are you okay? I didn't mean to—agh. Sorry."

"Back the hell away from my patient, would you?"

The easy, gentle tone the man adopted vanishes in an instant, and his arms stiffen around me. "She's not just your patient, Zachary, she's my friend, and I'll thank you very much to not forget that."

Zach snaps back with something much less civil, and I pull away from the man to get a better look at him. His bright green eyes are several shades darker than they should be, which I'm sure has something to do with Zach, and his clothes are in a state of disarray. Either he slept in them or had to get dressed in a hurry, and looking at the similar state Zach's in, I can only imagine which it is.

"Hi Thomas."

Tom's eyes soften as he grins exhaustedly at me. "Hey Sara. Long time no see."


	29. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.

AN: Another update. It's a miracle. There's more Cath/Sara this time around, and if I ever get around to writing another chapter, there will be even more in that one. Yay for them, but since it needs to be handled more delicately than usual for me, it could take a while to get the next one out. Not over two years though. Well, hopefully not.

_

* * *

Sara felt numb. Watching her Star's ashes fly into the ocean like this was something that she'd only ever imagined on her worst days at work; to see it happen and know that she wasn't dreaming felt horribly, horribly wrong. Almost worse than walking in to find Amy's dead body on the floor of their home. Star was never supposed to be _gone_—how many times had she always promised to be there?_

_A hand slipped into hers, and Sara jumped at the sudden contact. It was cold and unfamiliar. Sara blinked back the unexpected stinging in her eyes; the only touch that could possibly make her feel any warmth right now was her lover's, and that just wasn't possible._

_Sara looked back at the person who had bothered to approach her. She was only mildly surprised to see Thomas standing there. His usually vibrant green eyes were dull with a misery that hadn't quite made its home in her heart yet. He was always quicker than she was with things like this._

"_Do you need a ride back, or are you going to stay here a little longer? Riley needs to be with Jacob, so I'll be your chauffeur if you need me to." His voice was quiet and sad, but he met her eyes steadily and was standing up straight. He hadn't broken. No matter how close he and Amy were, this wouldn't break him. He was too steady. __**Reliable.**__ Even if his world was falling apart, he'd be around and able to take care of everything._

_But he couldn't fix this. No one could._

_Another unhappy glance behind her and Sara saw that Tom's assessment was correct; Riley needed to comfort his crying son more than he needed to be here._

_Riley looked as broken as she felt. The selfish part of her, the one desperate for any comfort, no matter what form it took, wished he'd come over and take Thomas' place for a second. Tom was handling this all far too well, and it __**hurt**__._

"_I want to stay here," she whispered. She felt her legs give out, and she lowered herself to the ground. Thomas followed, keeping a firm grip on her hand. "I don't ever want to leave."_

_Thomas shook his head. "I know you don't, Sara, but you have to eventually. You know that, right? You can't—" He cut himself off, choking just a little on his words. "It never lasts forever, Sara. Even if we wish for it with all are hearts, it'll still end one day. And I know that your life with Amy ended earlier than it should've, and it's not fair, but you have to endure."_

_Sara didn't look at him. She couldn't. Nothing he said was going to bring the person she loved back to her._

"_It's not fair," he repeated, "I __**know**__ that, Sara. Don't make things even worse for yourself—clinging to her isn't going to solve anything in the end." He sounded like he was crying._

_She couldn't help it. Without saying a word, she pushed herself closer to him, letting the small amount of warmth that her warped senses could feel envelop her._

_They didn't leave for several hours._

_It wouldn't be something Sara could think of rationally for a long time, but looking back, she had to wonder how much easier mourning Amy would have been if Zach hadn't broken Thomas.

* * *

_

I let Tom carry me to the couch because I'd probably fall to the floor without his support. The shock of seeing him here, in Zach's house, coupled with us colliding isn't doing much for my health. I think Zach's ranting about that right now, but it's hard to pay attention to anything he's saying while I'm trying to ignore his flustered attempts to button his shirt properly.

Thomas would be laughing at his ex-boyfriend if he weren't so upset, I think mildly, leaning back into the soft couch cushions. I think the embarrassment of this situation is finally starting to dawn on him, and I don't know if he thinks it's worse that I caught him and Zach on their morning-after or that I heard them arguing. Tom's always had issues with letting other people in on his fights with Zach, and now that they aren't together anymore it's probably only gotten worse.

"I hit you pretty hard there, didn't I? You going to be okay?"

Zach practically shoves Thomas aside when he hears that. "How badly did Thomas aggravate your injury? Are you bleeding at all?"

"I don't think so," I respond weakly. He ignores me and starts unbuttoning my shirt with a speed that seems almost ridiculous considering his current state of dress. I don't bother looking down to check my dressing; Tom didn't hit me hard enough to cause any real damage, just a lot of pain.

Zach examines me for a few moments before standing up and glaring at me. "Well at least we avoided that mess," he mutters. "Not that I'd have to worry in the first place if you hadn't decided to leave the house without telling me anything."

I come very close to wanting to hit him for that remark, but it's hard to think very clearly when in pain to begin with, and after my conversation with Greg, I'm even less sure of how to deal with Zach than usual.

Thomas, of course, has never had that problem.

"Oh for God's sake, Zachary! She's allowed to go out and have breakfast with friends! That's what normal, healthy human beings do! They interact! You being an idiot and hating just about everyone she knows doesn't change that!"

Pain may be dulling my senses more than I'm comfortable with, but I can still tell that that was a bad move on Thomas' part. Zach's expression turns into something with all the warmth and stoicism of a block of ice as he shifts he eyes to his ex-boyfriend.

You couldn't cut the tension with a knife. A chainsaw, maybe. Thomas is apparently realizing that he should have kept his mouth shut, but defiance is still written all over his face, and I can't help but think that he's preparing himself to get hit.

Surprisingly, Zach backs down before Tom does. He starts putting his shirt on properly again and stomps over to the door. Without sparing me more than a glance. Thomas doesn't even get that much.

"Since you don't really need two doctors watching over you, I might as well go to work. Food's in the kitchen, but don't let Sara make her own meal. Her opinion of what makes a proper meal leaves much to be desired. I will be back to take care of dinner." With that, he slams the door shut, leaving me and Thomas staring after him in shock.

"Huh," Tom says at last. He shakes his head with a quick jerk and smiles awkwardly down at me. "Sorry about costing you your primary physician. I probably should have seen that coming when I didn't leave."

"You tried to," I can't help but point out.

"Yes, but then I stuck around. Zachary had already lost his temper with me, so one of us needed to get out. When I stayed, he decided it should be him." Tom sighs and collapses on the floor next to the couch. "He really can be an idiot sometimes."

_More than sometimes,_ I think, but I don't say it out loud. Thomas doesn't need me telling him that his taste in men is downright strange. Especially not the night after something happened between them. Tom's very good at keeping himself grounded, but he doesn't have very thick skin.

"I kind of agree with him about you going out with your friends for breakfast, though," he says, grinning a little. "Not that I have a problem with who you hang out with of course, but you should really be more careful about what you're putting in your stomach. To be honest, Zachary would have preferred you inviting your friends over here if it meant knowing that you're getting proper nutrition."

I look at him incredulously. "Somehow, I think it might have bothered him to wake up with you, me, and a couple of CSIs in his house. He already seemed pretty unhappy with just you."

Tom grimaces and rubs his reddening neck in embarrassment. "Ah—that—well, yes, that's true enough. We haven't truly gotten along in quite some time now, as I'm sure you've figured out." He looks sad about that, making me more uncomfortable than I thought possible. I've never really thought about how the two of them interacted privately as a couple, and honestly, thinking of Zach in any kind of serious, _functional _relationship is a little weird.

"We did talk civilly about you, though," he says with forced casualness. "And about why you're staying with him instead of one of your friends while you recover. That's actually why I'm here in the first place—he finally got around to telling me you were shot." Exasperation almost covers up his obvious concern for a moment when he says that.

"And that made you run off and show up on his doorstep in the middle of the night?" I'm amazed that he managed to stick around as long as he has if that's the case.

"That's right." He's smiling, but there's some steel behind his teeth. "And Zachary let me in on what's been happening in your life over the past year. He seems to think that you're obsessed with a dead woman."

An uncomfortable jolt of pain and shock drives its way through my heart, reminding me uncomfortably of my earlier conversation with Greg. _That's_ why Zach's letting him stay for a while longer? He thinks I need someone to talk to me instead of just hammering uncomfortable truths into me? Chills try to take control of my body, but I fight them off, trying to warm myself up with the small amount of rage I can feel at the idea of Zach trying to fix me.

Thomas stands up, his smile completely gone. The sorrowful expression he'd adopted since hearing of Amy's death takes its place. He almost looks worse than he did when we watched Star's ashes fall into the ocean.

"I know it's not right for Zachary or myself to tell you how to grieve, Sara. And although I would have interfered in your life quite a bit over the last year if I had been around, I have to admit that at this point the only thing I could really do to help you would be to leave you alone. Zachary disagrees with this, of course," he adds bitterly, "but that is because you are now his patient, and he won't be able to stand having you in anything less than perfect condition. That's just who he is."

"He should just stay out of it." Pestering me into admitting the—feelings I have for Catherine was maybe something I needed. I can sort of recognize that at this point. But getting his ex-boyfriend to help me talk things out crosses some kind of delicate line that I wasn't even aware of before this moment. Even knowing that he cared enough to talk to someone he hasn't had a real conversation with in months isn't enough to make me think anything other than, _he had no right._

Maybe I've made a horrible mess of my life since Amy died, but that doesn't mean I need people holding my hand over every little thing. I'm not a child anymore—he doesn't get to treat me like one.

Thomas' voice brings me out of the whirlwind of raging thoughts in my head.

"At this point, yes, there's very little he can do to help you beyond being the best doctor he can for you. Which he's doing," he feels the need to point out. "But what's keeping him from just leaving it alone—and me as well I suppose—is that you're starting to move on without your consent."

"Don't." I can hear the blood pumping in my ears faster than it should, and I don't know if it's fear or anger that I feel right now.

Thomas raises his hands in surrender—_no, __**apology**__, he's not surrendering_—and looks back at the picture of me and Amy that's on the mantle. Against my will, I follow his eyes, trying not to remember the happiness I felt that day—the happiness that I can never feel again.

"Can you remember the day we spread her ashes, Sara?"

I don't dignify that with a response.

"That day, you told me that you didn't ever want to leave that spot. That place where you first met—you wanted to stay there forever, in the spot that was closest to both of your hearts. And I don't think you would have left if I hadn't dragged you away. And even then, it was one of the hardest things either of us has ever done. You didn't want to leave, and I'm sure you hated me a little for dragging you away. But here's the thing, Sara: you would have died if I had left you alone. You would have sat there and wasted away, and I couldn't allow that to happen. It's the same thing now, really, which is why I'm siding with Zachary for the moment."

"Thomas," I practically snap, "I am dealing with this. I don't need the two of you to tell me how to handle things in my life. I'm perfectly capable of handling them on my own now. So thank you for the _concern_, but let it go."

He stays quiet for long enough that I start thinking that maybe he's going to bother listening to me, but I should really know better than that when I'm dealing with someone who dealt with Zach's stubbornness for so long.

"I would like to, but if I did that, I'm not sure if I'd be able to live with myself. Zachary told me about Catherine, Sara. How you feel about her—"

"Thomas, don't." I throw myself off the couch, ignoring the twinge that comes from the hole in my chest, and walk over to the fireplace, focusing on the picture so that I don't have to look at Tom. "I don't know what Zach told you, but I'm not ready—I don't _want_ anyone in my life like that except for A-Amy, and you aren't going to convince me that I should." I doubt that's what he's doing, considering how much he cared for Star, but that's what it feels like.

"Sara, that's not what I'm trying to do, I promise." He comes up behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder. "It's just—damn it Sar, I'm _happy_ for you. And… incredibly relieved. This is something healthy, Sara—something _good_ for you—and because of that, I want to make sure that you don't ruin it for yourself."

Tears are starting to sting their way into my eyes, and I don't know if it's because of what he's saying or because I'm staring at Star's face.

Hell, I don't even know who I want to comfort me; Catherine or Amy. Right now, it doesn't seem important which. I just know that one of them could make all of this pain go away, and let me feel my emotions in peace, and that right now, that's all I want. Almost more than I want Amy back.

Blind terror strikes me at that thought, and I push it back down. No, I can't think that way. I don't want that. I don't _want_ to want anything more than my Star. I love her, and I don't want anyone to force us apart the way it feels like Zach and Tom are trying to.

"_Sara._"

Thomas spins me around by force and rests both of his hands on my shoulders. We just stare at each other for a second, each noticing the special kind of misery in our eyes, before Tom smiles brokenly at me and takes me in his arms.

"Look, I don't know everything that Zachary told you, but it's been a week since then, and he says that you haven't seen Catherine since before that. What bothers me, Sara, is that from what Zachary has told me, the two of you care enough about each other to be called close friends."

Why the hell is Zach trying to take care of me using his worst, manipulative qualities? It's starting to make me feel antsy and paranoid along with the general horrified terror that these conversations keep inspiring.

"I'm not ready to—"

"I get that. That's not the point. I couldn't care less if you and Catherine get together. What I care about is that you've formed a solid connection with someone, and I don't want you to pull away from it because you're so caught up with feelings you don't want to have. The romantic aspect doesn't matter—look; I don't want to see you lose someone else you care about. Especially when this time, all you need to do is _relax_. You don't want a relationship, so there's no pressure for you to do anything. Just be her friend, and let her be yours."

"It's scary though," I let out before I can stop myself. I wince when I realize just how much of a child I sound like. Maybe it has something to do with being constantly lectured by people who are older than me and _maybe_ (probably) know better than me, but I'm feeling more and more like the scared little kid I was before I met Amy.

I guess that's appropriate, since she's gone now.

I close my eyes, expecting the rusty knife of pain that's been going through my heart every time I've thought that for the past year.

Instead, I just feel a type of quiet sadness.

And loneliness.

…

I want—

No. I don't get to want that yet. But… I want to be able to want it, and that's new.

"I know it's scary, Sara. But you have people who care about you, and we'll help you even if you're too stubborn to ask. We love you too much to act otherwise."

* * *

"Willows."

I grip the hand holding the phone as hard as I can to keep myself from slamming it back down on the receiver. I try to focus on the warmth that's spreading from my chest just from hearing her voice, and not on the cold fear that's threatening to take the warmth away.

"Uh, hey Cat. It's me. Sara." Somehow, I think she could've figured that out from the first sentence alone. It's not like we haven't spoken to each other on the phone before; I'm sure she's perfectly capable of recognizing my voice.

"Oh! Hi."

I don't know if it's good or bad that she sounds as awkward as I do right now. Probably bad. I doubt that Nick and Greg have kept quiet about braving Dr. Grouchy to come see me almost every day, and even if she didn't hear anything from them, Warrick probably mentioned his short visit. Grissom has a very good reason to avoid me, but she doesn't. And as far as she knows, I shouldn't have any reason to avoid her, so my behavior during this past week probably hasn't made her feel very good at all.

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in having lunch with me." Never mind that she probably woke you up from a pleasant nap, would you like to spend some time with the person who's been avoiding you and constantly manages to hurt you with her insensitivity? "At Zach's, of course, since I already got snapped at once today for eating out without telling him first. And he's at work, so I can't tell him."

"I thought he was taking time off to look after you?" She sounds like she's about to start ranting about what a bastard Zach is. I'd probably agree with most of it, but right now, I really don't want to hear it.

"Yes, but then his ex-boyfriend showed up and they slept together so now Tom's looking after me." I'm rambling, aren't I? Damn it, this isn't working well at all. I should tell her that for some reason Thomas just told me that I can't have any visitors. How's she supposed to know how much nicer than Zach Tom is?

"I take it Tom's the ex-boyfriend." She sounds amused now.

"Yes," I say, trying to keep it short before I say something else I really shouldn't. Not that I can really dig myself any deeper right now.

"Meeting him should be interesting."

"So you'll come over?" I hope I'm only imagining how desperate I sound, but considering how well things tend to go in my life, I probably sound worse.

"A chance to see Dr. Jerk's house without him in it? Oh yes, definitely." Her voice is warm and inviting and sends shivers down my spine, which I ignore. And then with a click, our thoroughly embarrassing conversation is over and done with.

I finally let go of the hand that's holding the phone and put it down on the receiver. I think my fingers are trembling. That was a lot harder than I thought it would be. Easier too, though, since I actually managed to live through it. Now there's just eating together.

"That took a lot of nerve," Thomas says quietly. I didn't even notice him entering the room. I try to smile at him for a moment before I realize that my nerves are too shot to do much of anything with my facial muscles.

I was wrong when I told Tom that this was scary. It goes far beyond that. It's terrifying.

But I miss her, and my avoidance has probably already hurt her quite a bit. I don't want to hurt her anymore. I can't lose our friendship. I just _can't_.

I rest my aching head into my hands and groan.

This is going to be hard.


End file.
